


when it rains, it's lemon cakes

by corvinephan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Phandom Reverse Bang 2020, References to Religion, Royalty, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, extended descriptions of food and clothes but they're plot relevant i swear, not that many though and they're brief, prince!Phil and patissier!Dan, side f/f pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvinephan/pseuds/corvinephan
Summary: "The thought of the boy quickly becomes one of his go-to fantasies, the thing that helps him get through the day, tethering him to reality and making it a bearable experience. And really, Phil thinks that it's a bit much to feel this way about what is, essentially, a complete stranger, but he's always been bad with fantasies, getting lost in them easily, head always filled with impossible scenarios and tender moments he'll never get to experience."Sneaking around. Crushed pastries at the bottom of the tray. Kisses at dawn and the impending threat of an arranged marriage.Phil meets a tall stranger on a late-night rendezvous through the castle. What happens when that stranger's smile and laugh fill an entire room, burrowing besides Phil's heart and refusing to leave?
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 44
Kudos: 84
Collections: Phandom Reverse Bang 2020





	when it rains, it's lemon cakes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! First and foremost, HUGE thanks to my beta Val, @hidden_pastry (hiddenpastry on tumblr) for reading this beast and giving me her seal of approval, as well as amazing advice and encouragement every time I needed it. It felt like she was reading my mind every time she left a comment or pointed out a theme, and I thank her from the bottom of my heart for making me feel so understood and seen. 
> 
> Then comes our amazing artist Gib (asensical on tumblr), who could not have made a better piece to go along with the fic. Seriously, go stare at it for a few minutes, you'll see what I mean. This has been an amazing experience, spanning about three months and many, many sleepless nights (so many), and I couldn't have done it without them (the prb server has been a lifesaver, truly).
> 
> Thank you, everyone, and I'll see y'all for the next event. Keep an eye out for some (shorter) oneshots in the next few months, while I work on the Next Big Thing. Love you all <3

Deep breath.

"Everyone pay attention, please!" Quiet settles over the room. Exhale. Inhale. Still. "This season, with all the dubious trends and fashions going around, we have decided to keep it simple. Traditional, if you will. The cloak and tunic you are about to see are the work of esteemed Frenchman Auguste de Saint-Mémin, who has been working on them since summer commenced, and although they do not follow the aforementioned trends, as you will soon see, his work shows astounding attention to detail. After today's celebrations, we will put the prince’s attire up in the gallery, where everyone can admire it.”

The muffled voice of his father pauses, and, through the three-inch-thick doors in front of him, Phil can hear the gasps and murmurs of the crowd.

“Without further ado, let us all welcome prince Philip, and let the Winter Ball begin!"

Phil feels himself being pushed forward, not necessarily by anyone in particular, but by the weird tidal force that comes with a set of fifteen feet tall doors opening in front of him. He steps into the ballroom, right after one last servant puts the coat of arms on the lapel of his cloak, and follows his well-learned choreography around the room. Bow, kiss old ladies' hands, do the tour of the room greeting everyone, accept compliments and twirl for the curious people around him, all hungry to see the embroidery, crystals and riches he’s wearing draped over one shoulder. He almost forgets to breathe in the whirlwind of polite chitchat and asinine conversations.

After what feels like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, he's left alone near the snack table, resting his elbows on the edge, exhausted. He lets his head hang, wishing his hair was free to fall over his face, and not styled up, pulled back, pinned in place. He hears someone swear a few paces in front of him, but doesn't pay them any mind. If anyone gets rowdy, he's got about a dozen guards at the ready to take them down.

"Phil, mate!" he hears, snapping his head up when he recognizes Nicky's voice. Or rather, what he thinks is Nicky's voice because surely, _surely_ the boy couldn't actually be there. But he sees him coming in his direction and it is. He damn near jumps into the boy's arms, sharing a powerful embrace, of which neither boy lets go until several moments pass. When they separate, they don't, really. Phil keeps holding Nicky's elbows and Nicky squeezes his upper arms in turn, face full of glee. He is speechless for the better half of a minute, just looking at his friend. When he finally speaks, Phil barely gets the sentence out.

"I can't believe you're here, like, _really_ here," he laughs.

"I can't believe you didn't notice the massive commotion I caused." Nicky bounces back, already starting on his banter. "I literally tipped over a full stack of cakes and drinks. If I hadn’t had this thing on me-" and he points to his coat of arms, "I'd be freezing in the dungeons, let me tell you."

Phil just smiles because. His best friend is there, and he hasn't seen him in _ages_ , and he's just so _fucking_ happy-

"Phil, dear," he hears a voice to his left.

"Mother!" He startles a bit, then looks around to make sure no one noticed. He skips the polite greeting or the bow, as no one is watching him. They're all focused on the mini cakes and the fizzling concoctions sitting on the tables lining the walls. "Did you know Nicky was coming? Why didn't you tell me?" Phil looks between the two, trying to read them, sensing that they're having some kind of unspoken conversation. He's never been good at subtleties.

"We've… uh. We wanted to surprise you, Phil." Nicky says, but he's looking over Phil's shoulder at his mother. Phil snaps his head back to her and sees the ending motion of a nod, which she tries to hide by looking over to the side, but he still catches it.

"I came to see if everything was all right here, and if it is, I must excuse myself. Have fun, my boys." and she smiles at them, briefly pinching Phil's cheek, then leaves.

Phil would think it quite a useless conversation if not for the way Nicky sobers up after that. They talk, catch up on everything, but Phil can tell something's off. Every few sentences Nicky trails off, opens his mouth, closes it, gapes like a fish out of water. It drives Phil mad, so he grabs Nicky's arm and drags him into the hallway leading to the kitchens. It's the only place they can go without opening one of the giant doors and drawing attention to themselves, so it's good, but Phil knows they'll also have to speak in short intervals because there are always waiters and servants bustling in and out of the kitchen through the narrow corridor. As soon and they settle side by side against the cool stone wall, Phil starts probing him.

"Okay, spit it out," he says. Nicky looks a bit out of his element.

"Spit what out?" he asks, but it's a weak protest accompanied by shifty eyes, so Phil continues waiting for a proper answer. None comes.

"My mum, Nicky, c'mon, don't be daft. Tell me what she told you." Nicky’s silence isn’t a great sign. He’s not the type to hesitate or beat around the bush.

Nicky sighs, rubs his eyes. "Well. Yeah, um… This is awkward."

"Right. Just say it then."

Nicky gives him the stink eye. “That’s not going to make it better.”

“Is _anything_ going to make whatever the hell has got you looking so constipated better?”

Nicky rolls his eyes. “Give me a break, Phil, I don’t want to be doing this either.”

Phil gives him a pointed look, waiting. He starts tapping his foot rhythmically on the stone floor.

“Fine,” Nicky says, finally. “You're getting married.” His face scrunches up in instant regret, but Phil's frozen. That was decidedly _not_ what he'd been expecting.

The first thing he feels is nausea. The second is confusion.

"What…" he clears his throat. "This isn't even that big of a deal, you scared me, Nicky." Phil tries to sound unaffected, but he feels his throat tighten, and his vision blur. It’s not tears. It’s confusion, and something else that makes it feel like his brain is leaking out of his ears.

"You don't get it, Philly, please."

"I get it all right. We all get married at some point, this isn't _news_."

Right then, a waiter passes by them, looks scared for a second, tries to bow, but his hands are full of plates to refill the tables and he ends up just dropping his head to his chest. He tries to speak but Phil gives him a curt nod, sending him a kind smile as he motions to the door.

Nicky looks sympathetic, and well, that doesn't sit well with Phil. Once the waiter is gone, Phil starts speaking.

"Why were you the one to tell me?" and his voice lifts at the end in uncertainty and hurt.

"Did my parents not trust me to take the news well, so they made you come all the way here to what? Tell me something I already knew?" And, well. Phil hadn't known, not really. He’d sensed it, though. And he’s aware Nicky would have come either way, so he knows his reaction is weird, would look weird to anyone looking in, but Nicky gets him.

"Phil, stop. You need to know everything." So Phil shuts up, draws shallow breaths.

"It will happen relatively soon. It could be a year, or it could be just a few months. Either way, once you turn eighteen, all bets are off."

Phil's birthday had just passed. The Winter Ball, in all its blue-ornamented glory, was technically celebrating _him_ (not that they made much of it about him, really). So he had one full year of—the first word that comes to mind is freedom.

"Why is this news? _Why_ are you saying it like this?"

"Phil, listen. I know this is hard."

"Why would it be hard, have you gone silly? Why would I not want to get married? Surely we’re both aware that there are worse fates out there than marrying a pretty girl with good ancestry." And. That sounds weird. He's panicking, and for _no reason_ , for God's sake.

Nicky sees, of course he does.

"Phil, hey. Breathe."

He draws Phil in, hugging him, squeezing comfort into his tense muscles. "Shh…" he says, making soothing motions with his fingers on Phil's back. Phil hugs back, and they say nothing for a while. It has the desired effect, the hug. Phil's breathing evens out. They sit in silence, holding each other. The crackling of the torches on the walls lulls Phil into a daze, and he has to blink himself away from the edge of sleep. Nicky's entire body radiates warmth. He pulls back.

"Why do I feel like this?" He asks. Nicky reaches a hand out to him, holds his wrist gently.

"What do you feel like?"

Phil hesitates.

"Terrible. Scared."

Nicky hums. “It’s change, it ought to be scary. And you’re young, and this is quite sudden. You’ll figure it out, eventually,” he says, smirking a bit at the end.

“What’s that smug look for?” Phil asks, drawing his hand back.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Phil scowls. “You better not be laughing at me, I’ll have you thrown in the dungeons, coat of arms or not.”

They both crack up.

“It’s just a thought I had, let me be. I find myself hilarious, as we both know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wish I was in on the joke for once,” he mumbles, loud enough still for Nicky to hear him.

Nicky just shrugs and makes a show of bowing to let Phil pass him and enter the great hall once again.

***

Phil has to admit, he's a mess sometimes. He can't put his cape on without help, his ceremonial sword always trips him up and, just in general, he isn't a very coordinated human being. So, of course, this extends to his speech, every word past "hello" a perpetual challenge. He always has to concentrate _so hard_ on conversations, to make sure he's making sense, coming across as "princely" enough.

The thing is, he doesn't _click_ with people. At least not immediately, not perfectly, and not often. He has to work for it. And it shouldn’t be such a source of torment in his life, hell, it usually isn’t. He’s good at charming people, especially adults. But when it comes to forming genuine connections with people his own age, Nicky is as far as he ever got, and he’s had his whole life to do it. And it gets exhausting, not having anyone get you.

Today he's particularly burned out on it, like he usually is after big events—his birthday last night the epitome of that—and he doesn't want to take it out on people. As such, he slips out of his room past midnight to get a snack from the kitchens, or rather, the extension to the kitchens he insisted on having remodelled somewhat adjacent to his bedroom. He evades in there, knowing that early shifts don't start until four in the morning.

He stops mid-step and sighs when he sees someone else standing near the pantry. His back almost refuses to straighten, but it has to. It's far too ingrained in him: perfect posture, head straight when other people are in the room. He makes his way over to this mystery person, frowns when he doesn't immediately recognize them. Him, he would guess, from the broad shoulders and the fact that they’re almost as tall as Phil himself. The pantry is right next to the balcony opening, and Phil is thankful for it, because it means cool air floats through the room, chilling him through his pyjamas and helping him relax somewhat. He sneaks behind him and stops when he's a mere few feet away, resigning himself to using the last of his energy for the day on this mystery person.

"Why, hello there," he says, delighting in the way the boy jumps in surprise. And then he's not delighted anymore because his brain kind of… tangles. As does his tongue, for a few seconds. Said boy has turned around, soft brown curls falling gracelessly around his face. Phil can't explain his reaction to himself, but he's definitely… struck, by how handsome this boy is. He asks himself if he's jealous and the answer is no. Not at all.

"Hi," he responds, and he seems to realize who Phil is, eyes going a bit wider. He bows, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?"

He clears his throat. "How can I help you, your majesty?" he asks, finally lifting his head to look at him through his curls, back still bent on his bow. Phil feels himself warm up in something akin to embarrassment.

"You're my age, right? There's no need for formalities, at least not right now. I'm Phil."

He straightens, and there's already something distinctive in this boy's eyes. Something equally wicked and soft.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Phil."

The boy's lips twitch. "As you please, your grace."

"Still Phil." And they're both laughing now, a bit shy, and a bit clumsy, a lot surprised.

"All right, Phil. I'm Daniel. I prefer Dan, though," he says. Phil nods, a tentative, but genuine smile on his face.

"It's nice to meet you, Dan." They share a few seconds of extended eye contact before Phil clears his throat and gestures toward the pantry.

"Can I…?" he asks, and Dan steps away awkwardly. Phil is surprised the boy hasn't scurried away yet. He seems to want something, or think something, and doesn't really look the kind to scurry in the first place, hovering around Phil as he digs around for something sweet to munch on. He finds some chocolate cookies and takes a few in both hands, closing the door with his elbow. He plates them and sits them on the wooden table, seating himself on a chair and inviting Dan to do the same. Dan doesn't protest, seems to have gained some amount of confidence around Phil.

"So, I haven't seen you around," Phil starts, trailing off, offering Dan the space to tell him why. He bites into one of the cookies, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head when the chocolate melts in his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm new. One of the older patissiers retired and I'm here as an apprentice," he says, looking at Phil, scrunching his eyebrows together, like he's searching for something.

"I see. Well, Dan, you'll have to show me how good your cooking skills are. Do you…" Phil trails off, thinking of something to ask Dan, a way to dig a bit into who he is, because it's late and he's tired and just on the right amount of sleep-deprived for things to be lighter in his chest, easier to control, filter turned not quite off, but just to a slight buzz in the back of his head. "Do you like it here so far?"

Dan looks excited at that, and Phil notes the small dimple marking his cheek.

"Yeah! It's really fun and I'm learning so much. I baked the lemon cakes for the party yesterday, actually. Did you… " Dan hesitates, eyes flitting around the room for a split second, then looks directly at Phil and maintains eye contact. "Did you like them?"

Phil decides to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach at the way Dan says that, shy and private, yet filled with contained excitement. Phil has decidedly not tasted the sweets, but Dan looks so hopeful and open, and Phil can't take that from him. He can tell him the truth later if it ever comes up. And it's quite a bold statement in his mind, the sudden decision that this isn't the last time he will see the boy.

"I did. They were great." And he tries a smile. But he doesn't have to force it for long, because the way Dan lights up triggers an uncontrollable grin. He thinks it's impossible not to be fond of him, with his soft features and honest demeanour. "In fact," he continues, "I only managed to snag one or two, are there any left?"

Dan almost runs to the pantry, shouting "Yes!" on his way there. Phil laughs at him, and it only crosses his mind later, after he's laid down in bed, that that's the first time he laughed genuinely in a very long time.

Dan brings a small pouch with about six lemon cakes inside, perching them in front of Phil and sitting down, looking like he's about to burst with joy.

"These were the first things I made without supervision, as well. I'm really proud of them."

"As you should be," Phil says, taking one cake in hand and biting into it. The taste is otherworldly. It's sweet, and the sour undertone of the lemons, as well as the thin layer of vanilla cream on top mix together wonderfully.

"These are…" Phil remembers he's supposed to have tasted them before, corrects himself before he slips. "I almost forgot how good these are."

"Thank you," Dan says, smiling openly. Phil's stomach swoops. He swallows the first bite before he speaks again. They share a bit of back and forth after his first lemon cake and into his second and third one, Dan looking more and more pleased by the second. Phil doesn't even notice it when the whole thing is empty, save for one tiny, deformed cake on the bottom, because for about twenty minutes, maybe less, maybe more, the only concern he's had has been laughing at Dan's antics and sharing his own. They talk about their families, Phil complaining about this aunt or that, sharing things he definitely shouldn't, and being very reckless, as his brain would tell him later. Dan talks about his younger brother, describes him as a right menace, tells him of his grandma that passed away relatively recently. And it's _easy_. He's never had a conversation flow the way it does with this complete stranger, and it soothes and pains him equally.

Phil finally realizes there's only one cake left when his hands come up empty on his first try into the fabric pouch, looks at Dan guiltily as he offers him that last one.

"I can't believe I ate them all, I didn’t even notice they were getting fewer and fewer."

"That's how it works when you're constantly eating, you know? You eat the food and there's no more food. Like magic!" Dan says, making motions in the air like little explosions.

"Hilarious." Phil deadpans, but he smirks at Dan's subsequent pout. Phil folds up the edges of the pouch so that the little lemon cake is visible, crushed under the others but still good to eat, then looks at Dan expectantly.

"I'm not eating that," Dan says, and it's Phil's turn to pout.

"But I want you to enjoy your own creation," he says.

"I've enjoyed it many times in my life, I don't think there's anything different this time around."

"It's different because _I'm_ here, isn’t it? Or have you shared lemon cakes with every prince in all the lands?"

Dan rubs his (hairless) chin, seemingly pondering the question. Phil nudges his shin with his foot under the table.

"Don't anger royalty, Daniel, it never ends well." Dan grins at him, a thing of mystery really, because Phil can't decipher what the damn thing _means_ , and then takes the crushed pastry and puts the entire thing in his mouth, choking around it a bit before he manages to chew. Phil takes the piss, taking advantage of the fact that Dan can only look at him and frown, but underneath the humour, he feels something weird. That something peaks when he glances at Dan's lips, stretched a bit to accommodate the sugary confection. He forces his mind to focus on other subjects, unsure of his reaction. He keeps asking Dan questions.

"Are you friends with anyone here?"

"In the castle?" Dan responds, swallowing a bit drily and letting out a small cough. He looks thoughtful. "Not really. I get on with my fellow bakers and patissiers, but they're all quite a bit older." Dan grins. "Why, are you offering?"

Phil decides to be brave.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he says, voice small. Not _that_ brave. They share a moment of just looking at each other. Phil wonders if he comes across as pathetic, offering his friendship to the first person to be nice to him. Panic creeps in the longer it takes for Dan to respond, and he decides right then and there that from then on he's going to bite his tongue before letting shit like that slip, what was he even—

He's interrupted by Dan's barking laugh, a very loud sound in the dead silence of the night, a sound that cuts off abruptly at the end and leaves Phil wondering what the other half of it sounds like. Dan's laugh is crinkled at the edges, as are his eyes.

"What?" he asks, worrying his lip. Phil's somewhat smiling, but the knot in his stomach won't give until Dan actually _says_ something.

“Does that mean I'm officially _besties_ with the prince of England? You’re adorable,” Dan says, and Phil immediately feels himself heat up. He doesn't have to look to know the tips of his ears are red.

"You could be? I mean, it's… um. Yeah, nevermind, I…" Dan continues laughing low in his throat, but probably senses that Phil's uncomfortable, because he stops and reaches his hand across the table to cover Phil's own. He does so tentatively, stopping for a second when Phil's head snaps up at the initial contact, and Phil has to nod before Dan really lets his hand rest across his, all the while wearing a faint, comforting smile. Phil can feel a slow thrum in his fingers, a flicker of energy crackling right under his skin, making his fingers twitchy under Dan's. Both their hands are facing down, but it's still such a thrill for Phil that he forgets to breathe. Dan looks breezy, completely unaffected, keeps talking like the air isn't filled with static tension as right before a storm.

"I'm joking, Phil. It would obviously be an honour to spend any amount of time with you." Dan says, running his thumb absentmindedly back and forth across the back of his hand. Phil wonders if everyone outside of the royal family is this touchy or if it's just Dan that freely gives away all this casual affection. He’s watching Dan closely, sees the slight change from casual to serious. "It's just… baffling, that you'd even consider asking me that, I guess. Yeah…"

Phil's voice takes on a deliberately soft tone as he says "You're a fascinating guy, Dan. Really," he adds when Dan scoffs. "It's more interesting to talk to you than to any sir or duchess. They're all really boring people, but still."

Dan smiles. "I'm pretty sure that's not true, Phil. But thanks." And he retracts his hand, leaving Phil's feeling cold. Phil's palm twitches, instinct telling him to pull Dan's hand back, but he reigns it in almost subconsciously.

"It is," he whispers.

Phil startles when Dan claps his hands, pushing his chair back as he stands up. He’s loud, loud, loud, as if it’s not the middle of the bloody night.

"Right! I'll put all this back then, if that's okay with you? Or if you'd rather take it to your room…"

"No, that's okay. Let me help you."

Dan gives him an apprehensive look, like Phil offering to help puts a nick in his flow, but he doesn't argue. Phil feels the need to defend himself. "I know how to put a plate and some cookies away, Dan."

Dan smiles, shaking his head. "As you say."

And then it's silence from there, comfortable silence, as they clean up and part ways, promising to look for each other. Phil certainly hopes he sees the boy again soon, because he wants to make true on his promise to be his friend. And if that's a weird thing for a prince to want, Phil decides he doesn’t care anymore. Because prince life hasn’t had much to offer him aside from stress, and prince friends don’t come close to what he's experienced tonight. So he might as well redefine what being a prince means to him.

He sleeps fitfully, replaying the conversation in his mind, unable to drag his thoughts away from the fantasy of spending more time with Dan, imagining how his face and his curls would look like in daylight. If he falls asleep with the image of his full cheeks and lemon-dusted lips on loop in his head, no one has to know.

***

Phil doesn't stop thinking about him. In fact, almost every moment of his day is spent imagining a second meeting with the boy, anxiously wondering if their brief rendezvous was a fluke, something that lives in the night, impossible to comprehend once the sun rises. It would almost make sense, for Dan to be some kind of magical creature, a fairy of sorts, someone who enters his life, sprinkling fairy dust all over it and leaving with his name and identity in his hand, changing how he sees himself forever.

It makes perfect sense in his mind. His emotions sparkle like they never did before, and he smiles in spite of himself when he thinks of him, fluffy curls and all, so surely there's some kind of sorcery in the middle of this, some mushroom circle hiding somewhere in the castle gardens.

The thought of the boy quickly becomes one of his go-to fantasies, the thing that helps him get through the day, tethering him to reality and making it a bearable experience. And really, Phil thinks that it's a bit much to feel this way about what is, essentially, a complete stranger, but he's always been bad with fantasies, getting lost in them easily, head always filled with impossible scenarios and tender moments he'll never get to experience.

So when he finds some kind of anchor, something that seems tangible and _real_ in all the snobbery of the royals, he gets attached. It's always been something small, though, like a stray cat that visited regularly or a bird with a peculiarly coloured speck on its feathers, never a human being. So this is new. And weird. Because the fantasies he had of running away with the cat and the bird as his only companions don't really align with the ones he has of Dan. And, hell, he's not even sure he even has 'fantasies' of the boy per se, just the image of his smile and the sound of his laugh stuck somewhere in his brain, caught on one of his nerve endings and refusing to let go, burnt somewhere permanently. And if he's completely honest with himself, he thinks he might remember the boy even if they never meet again, even if he really _was_ a creature of darkness.

A few days pass uneventfully, and Phil's cogs start turning. He can't just let their meeting be a thing of chance, he decides. He starts looking for Dan everywhere, asking for various pastries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, waiting, hoping that some malfunction will happen and he'll have to deliver them himself. It never happens, of course, but Phil pays that much more attention to the pastries themselves because of it, feverishly deciding that they carry secret messages, meanings that he has to decipher. He takes every bite as if waiting for a piece of paper to be baked inside, disappointed against all logic when that's not the case.

Thing is, Phil knows he's being ridiculous, knows that the easy way out of this is to just ask for Dan, demand he be the one to bring the tray laden with sweets, but he can't bring himself to do it, afraid that Dan doesn't even exist, that he invented the boy out of sheer loneliness and desire to have a friend. He'd rather live in limbo than destroy whatever happy vision of reality his mind decided he should live in.

So he decides he's not going to mention Dan to anyone, opting to see for himself if the boy is real.

One day he just goes into the kitchens, the main ones, tells the worried cooks and bakers that he's simply there to admire their work, see how his food is made, and wanders around the several adjacent rooms looking for a certain tall, dimple-y lad.

He almost gives up when Dan is nowhere to be seen, sitting down on a high stool, and letting out a defeated sigh. Before he has time to chastise himself for wasting his time though, Dan bounds down the stairs from the staff quarters, looking at his feet and hurriedly tying an apron around his middle. Phil can see him from where he's sitting, but it's obvious Dan hasn't noticed him yet, because he puts on his cooking hat without sparing him a glance, greets everyone with a blinding smile, jumps around from table to table, collecting things, so full of energy he reminds Phil of those flickering balls of fire, will-o'-the-wisps that light up the way in dark forests, a thing of stories and myths.

Dan is real though, and Phil waits for him patiently, laughing to himself at Dan’s shocked face when someone whispers something in his ear and points Phil out. Phil waves at him when they lock eyes and in a few seconds Dan appears next to him, looking around apprehensively. Phil is aware that this time around they are not alone, that people are watching them, surely straining to hear any conversation between the two. He gives Dan a small nod when the boy raises a questioning eyebrow.

Dan offers a curt bow, speaking in a faintly posher accent than Phil remembered. "Your majesty, how can I be of use?" and Phil's insides mush around painfully when Dan gives him a right cheeky smile as he says it. Phil has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard. And… he kind of prepared for this interaction and kind of didn't. It _had_ been an impulsive decision, coming here, but he did come up with some semblance of an excuse. He just hopes it isn't as see-through to everyone else as it is to him.

"You're already of use, aren't you, young Daniel? I'd hope so, at least." Phil says, raising a playful eyebrow, remembering he's not supposed to know Dan's name but hoping that if he's casual enough about it people won't notice. "I might have to take back what I'm about to say if you aren't," he laughs. "I came to watch the people working, but it might not hurt to give compliments to the chef and his new patissier. That's you, right?" Dan nods, and Phil tries _so_ hard to act natural. "Right. Well, compliments, then."

Dan stares blankly at him for a second but shortly erupts into incredulous, too-loud laughter, which fills the room for a beat before he self-consciously breaks it off. Phil chuckles along, rubbing his palms together, filled with a scary, unnamed feeling. He really wants Dan to like him, think of him as his equal, and not some prince that looks at everyone down his nose, wants Dan to like him maybe too much for his own good. When the room stills, no longer shining with Dan's laugh, he desperately wants to be the one to bring it back.

"Really, though, I noticed a big difference lately, in a really good way," he says, trying to think of compliments you can give to a damn patissier. He's never been in this situation before, how would he know? "It's like, the cake and the biscuits are fluffier and like, sweeter… I really liked them." He sounds so lame. He sounds so lame he wants to crawl into a ditch, live the rest of his life eating dirt because he clearly doesn't deserve the wretched cake he's talking about.

"Thank you." Dan's eyes are so crinkly with his smile they're almost closed, and Phil's heart does a loop inside his chest. He can't _not_ smile in return. "Um, _some people,_ " and he says it louder, probably addressing someone in particular, "didn't like how much sugar I put in them. But I had a feeling you shared my sweet tooth." The last bit is said very lowly, hushed so that only Phil can hear it.

He encounters something very surprising with that statement. Dan's only met him once, and he guessed something about Phil _and_ guessed it correctly. Phil not only has not had that happen to him, but he also didn't even know it was a _thing_. People always, _always_ ask for his preference, never assume anything lest he does something insane like guillotine them, and this… feels personal, intimate, _brave_. Phil loves how unassumingly brave Dan is by his nature.

"I definitely liked it. Tell some people that they've got it wrong this time, but I'll let it slide," he jokes. And, this has been going on for a bit longer than expected, and his audience hasn't grown any less interested. Time for the big move. He really hopes Dan catches on quickly on this one.

He shrugs then, going for casual. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, mate. Keep adding sugar," he says, attempting a wink.

He moves a bit to the left to cover Dan's right arm from view of everyone else watching from the back, extends his own for a handshake, and signals with his eyes to the piece of paper he has clutched between his thumb and palm. Dan frowns a bit before his eyes widen almost imperceptibly, hurrying as soon as he realizes to shake his hand, putting the tips of his fingers on the paper and sliding it out of Phil's hand and into his own when they part. Phil almost laughs at how easily it all works out, sure that no one saw Dan slipping it into his pocket. He's a sneaky bastard, this little shit. He nods and bites back a smile as he backs away, giving Dan one last look before turning and leaving, saying goodbye to a few other people on the way.

***

The slip of paper reads, in what Phil would call his best handwriting, but is really just his sad attempt at making it legible enough for Dan:

_Meet me in the castle gardens when you're on a break._

_Bench near the weeping willow._

_Phil._

And the thing is… Phil doesn't know what to expect. Doesn't have any clue if Dan is even allowed to go outside the castle on his shifts, has no idea how long his shift is or if he even has breaks. He knows nothing about this situation and nothing about how to handle it and it sits heavily on his chest. Because how presumptuous is he, really, to ask someone he's only met once to ditch their work and come… do what exactly with Phil? He doesn't know. He just knows that he used his entire reserve of bravery to write down that stupid message, had run on pure adrenaline as he was giving it to Dan, praying that the boy would keep it between the two of them, only realizing as he was sat down on the aforementioned bench how this could go down if all his assumptions turn out to be wrong.

So Phil waits, legs parted just a tiny bit and hands in his lap, chewing his lip, heart beating a bit too fast for comfort. He should have brought a book, something to distract him, or at least something to make himself look like less of a trainwreck, more composed when Dan comes. _If_ he comes. But as heavy fog settles over the gardens and into the distance, he supposes not bringing a book had been a wise decision after all. He wouldn't want the pages to become damp and ruin it.

He's alone with his thoughts, is the conclusion. And it's not like he's never alone with them, but it's pressing against the edges of his skull this time around, feeling different, pressing, stressful. He might manage to breathe normally one of these days, but he feels things _so much_ and he can't help the boulder on his chest. Because the weeping willow is rocking back and forth ominously, grass snapping on the ground from the slight wind, fog greying everything, and it's all quite peaceful and way too much at the same time.

And then Dan appears. And he looks to have changed out of his work clothes. Phil's not sure how long he's been sitting on that bench, but a sharp pain pings through his back as he tries to move, so he assumes it's been quite a few minutes of sitting there, quietly contemplating. He rises to his feet as Dan comes closer, barely making out his shape in the thick mist.

"Hi," Dan says, once he's in Phil's immediate radius. And it's so soft, his full voice so warm, that Phil's throat feels less tight almost immediately, breaths coming in easier, mind catching the distinct smell of impending rain for the first time since he got there. He feels a bit like Dan's presence restored part of his senses. Phil is _really_ happy to see him.

"Hi," he says back.

Dan shoots him a quick smile before plopping himself down on the wet grass, a metre or so away from the, Phil would say quite obvious, bench. Phil points it out.

"There's a bench."

Dan eyes him with open, round eyes from his place at his feet, where he's sitting cross-legged, hands holding his knees, stance relaxed and leaned back so he can look at Phil comfortably. Phil is dressed quite elegantly, definitely not casual enough to plonk down in front of Dan. So he just stares down at him.

"Aren't you going to sit with me? The grass is quite refreshing today. I feel close to the earth," Dan says, only half-joking, smiling but squinting his eyes in clear sarcasm. And, Dan would say that, wouldn't he? And how would Phil even know what Dan would say, how has he already drawn conclusions about the boy's character?

It's February but he's wearing only a thin, white cotton blouse, which might as well not be there, it's so sheer. Phil can see his skin through the thin material, mouth drying as he spots one nipple, and then the next, as they harden in the winter chill. And as Phil continues to stare, giving Dan the slightest hum in response, Dan leans all the way back and stretches his arms wide, as well as his feet, which are now bracketing Phil's own limbs from his position standing up in front of the boy, lounging with not a care in the world, looking like the painting of an angel in the way he lies starfished in front of Phil, smiling something wicked in response to whatever Phil's face is doing, because Phil can't tell anymore.

He is in awe at this boy, because, who does that? Who lies like that in front of a person like Phil, in front of a prince, who has the guts to expose themselves, make themselves vulnerable the way Dan does? And Dan doesn't even seem challenged by the situation, just looks up at him, waiting. How does he just accept the wait, hell, basks in it from the looks of it?

Phil takes off his stiff coat and lays it down on the ground, not caring if he gets it dirty anymore. Almost hoping for it, in fact, eager to see the stain, wishing it doesn’t wash out. He sits then, right between Dan's spread legs, waiting for the boy to sit up and meet his gaze. He doesn't.

"Um, Dan?" Dan makes a soft, relaxed sound. "Do you want to talk or anything?" he asks, suddenly feeling awkward and inadequate, lost in a sea of something he doesn't recognize. Dan just looks so… in his element. Even though they're in Phil's gardens, in a place that Phil knows like the back of his hand, Dan is the more comfortable of the two. He seems to sense _something_ , at least, because he starts talking.

"Help me get up, then, your majesty,” he says, stressing those two words, _your majesty_ , as if they’re both really funny and really unnecessary. Phil supposes both are true.

So Phil leans over and takes Dan's wrist in his hand, noting how frail it looks, and he's afraid to pull lest it comes off his body, but he does it anyway, bringing Dan up to eye level. And Dan just stays like that, in the exact position Phil has put him in, smiling a dopey kind of smile, far off look in his eyes, hair sticking out at the back.

"Thanks," he says, eyes focusing on Phil.

"Welcome," Phil says in return. And he feels like he has a million questions for the boy, wants to ask his opinions on everything, how he finds the castle, how he thinks of royalty in general, if he likes the gardens and the people, but he just… Those questions don’t seem to fit with whatever dynamic they’ve got going on.

"Aren't you cold?" Right, Phil. Better start with the important questions. (But Phil does secretly think it's important because Dan is _not_ appropriately dressed for the weather.)

"I'm good, I'm good. I like the cold." Dan is silent for a few seconds. "I wish it was raining," he says. Phil's first impulse is to ask if he wants to dance, summon the rain so it pours over them, so it washes the heavy fog away and opens up the gardens. He doesn’t want the fog to clear, though, no… not yet. It feels like a safe pocket of the universe with the thick cotton-like mist enveloping them, shielding them.

"Do you like the rain, then?" Phil asks.

"I love the rain," Dan says, soft around the edges. He holds Phil's stare, locking it in place. Phil would usually look away from eye contact after a few seconds, would fidget, look around, but he physically can't. Dan's eyes are telling him something, they've been telling him something from the second they met, but the message they convey doesn't translate into words inside Phil's head. It translates into something, though, a feeling, something familiar and comforting, but he can't name it, can't put it in any box. So he leaves it alone.

Phil clears his throat. "I like it too. I especially like the thunder, and the lightning. I like it when it's powerful and sudden," he says. Dan fractionally quirks his eyebrow, and Phil suspects that the boy has inside jokes with himself. He wants to know what they are, badly, but knows that Dan won't share. Not yet.

"I'm afraid of lightning," is what he says. "I've always been. My mom used to cuddle me when there was a storm." He picks at his nails. "I love the downpour, though. The feeling of being… Swept away."

Phil waits. He knows Dan isn't finished.

"Sometimes I just lay down in the fields when it rains. You can feel the earth giving out under you, becoming wet and malleable. If it's a really heavy one, you might almost feel like you're drowning."

Dan looks far away. Phil doesn’t know what to make of him, of the way he said 'drowning' almost wistfully, like it's a situation he _wants_ to be in. Dan marches on.

"I almost always lay down, though. I'm afraid that if I stand up, the lightning is gonna hit me." Dan's eyes seem to come into focus. "That wouldn't be the best ending, do you agree?"

Phil's chest feels like it caved in at some point during the conversation. He barely breathes out a "Yeah…".

His hands itch to touch Dan. He did mention he likes cuddling, so he doesn't think he'd be _rejected_ if he tried, per se, and he cuddles sometimes with other friends, but… This doesn't feel like that. Like it usually does. He wants to reach out, though, and Dan looks like he needs _something_ from him, Phil just doesn't know what. They're sat cross-legged facing each other, mirroring, both of them resting their hands on their knees. Phil removes his, resting them palm down on the grass and shuffles a bit forward until their knees touch. Phil's heart is going a million miles per hour. He thinks he might throw up from nerves.

But then Dan smiles at him and some of the tension is broken. Dan actually starts giggling, wide smile and dimples lighting up his face. He looks at Phil.

"Can I give you a hug?" Dan asks. Just like that. Open, always so open. Phil nods, and before he registers what's happening, his face is buried in curly, brown hair and Dan is on top of him, having tackled him into the cold grass. He never stops giggling, hugging Phil tightly, hands around Phil's neck, the right side of his face smushed against Phil's. Phil hugs him back, hands holding him from around his waist, and Dan is so, _so_ warm. He burns under Phil's fingers, and Phil can feel the texture of his skin through the thin blouse, electric and on fire. Absolutely on fire. Dan doesn't go away quickly either, he just hangs onto Phil, who now feels himself heat up from head to toe, things stirring in his groin against his best judgement. It doesn’t matter what his judgement is, though, because it feels positively like heaven, having Dan's warm body pressed against his, his weight pushing Phil back into his own body. Whereas before he felt like he was floating, seeing himself from the outside looking in, he then feels grounded, safe, warm despite the biting cold. Phil huffs out a laugh, in both surprise and because Dan's tackle winded him.

"Easy, easy," Phil says, laughing in time with Dan. He brushes his hand up and down Dan's back instinctively, and for a few blissful moments he doesn’t question it, doesn't think anything of it. He just laughs and enjoys Dan holding him and holding him back.

"I'm always easy," Dan says, raising his head to look at Phil, winking. Phil's hands still and he laughs a bit awkwardly, suddenly too aware of where his hands are, how he's acting. He drops his arms to his sides, and Dan's own go a bit slacker around him. Dan then sits up on his haunches, and Phil raises himself on his elbows, feeling way too vulnerable all of a sudden. His tights are still bracketed by Dan's legs, though, and the boy doesn't look inclined to move.

"Tell me something about yourself, Phil." And, Dan looks comfortable, so why shouldn't Phil feel the same?

"What do you want to know?" he asks.

"Anything. Everything. Your first word, your favourite book, your stupidest endeavour." Dan smirks. "Your first cruuush…" he says, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously.

"Um…" Phil laughs, feeling his pulse in his head.

"C'mon. Tell me." Dan says, bouncing on Phil's thighs like a petulant child, pouting. Phil's heart doesn't slow down.

"Okay. My first word was 'light',” he starts. “I don't really have a favourite book, but I enjoy Shakespeare's sonnets, and I think almost everything I've ever done qualifies as a stupid endeavour."

"No fair. I want something specific." Dan says, moving his hands so they rest on Phil's belly. He yelps at the contact, but Dan doesn't seem phased in the slightest.

"I… um. Yeah, specific." Phil's brain is not on embarrassing memories, however, feeling Dan's fingers playfully press into his stomach, like he's exploring, poking at the soft bit at his navel. "I caught two pigeons once with my friend Nicky, and he insisted we put them in a cage and watch them mate." Dan's eyes widen noticeably at that. "We fed them for a while and watched them closely, but after a week or so they just… both laid eggs."

Dan just stares at him. "Oh my god," he says, and then he's laughing, his whole body shaking with it. "You're so weird, Phil."

"It was his idea!"

And then Dan is rolling off him, laying in the grass next to Phil, hands behind his head. Phil decidedly ignores the way his eyes are drawn to the exposed bit of skin where his blouse rides up.

"You didn't say anything about your crush."

Phil sighs, dropping his elbows and leaning fully down next to Dan, turning his head so they're face to face.

"Or crushes," he continues. "Don't know how that mind of yours works yet."

Phil shakes his head. "I don't think I've had… any. I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like," Phil says. Dan raises both eyebrows.

"Wow…" He says. And Phil hadn't expected applause or anything, but Dan's downright shocked expression drops like a brick at the bottom of his stomach. Phil looks away, staring up into what would have been the sky if the air wasn't so thick, but now it's just grey nothingness.

Phil tries to talk through the knot in his throat. "You don't have to react like that," he says, words soft despite the effort he puts into getting them out, and he knows he sounds hurt. He is.

"No, I…" And then there's a hand on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze making him turn his head back to Dan, who is now looking at him, eyebrows pinched together and biting his lip. "I didn’t mean it like that. It's okay if you haven't had any."

Phil's emotions turn to annoyance, but more towards himself than anyone else. "How would I even know? I don't. I haven't even spent time with that many girls. And even with those that I did spend time with, I don't… I don't know."

Dan's mouth looks poised to say something. He must decide against it at the last second, though, because he snaps it back shut. Phil rambles on.

"And now I have to meet with these girls, princesses, in the coming months, tell my father which one I like most and I'm just… I'm afraid I won't know what to answer."

Dan's hand on his shoulder rubs soothing circles into Phil's skin, and he takes a deep breath, a bit shaky from how worked up he'd gotten.

"You'll figure it out, Phil, don't worry. You can just pick someone who's nice, can't you? She doesn't have to be perfect, you just have to like her."

Phil huffs out an impatient sigh. "Yeah, I'll like her well enough, but we have to get married, Dan. Married! How is this fair to any of us? I meet her once, maybe a few times if we really like each other and then we have to pop out a baby."

Phil doesn’t really know when the conversation turned to this, but the underlying frustration of the past few days had made itself known.

Dan's eyes dance between Phil's, wide and full of concern. At least Phil hopes it's concern, and not pity. He sighs, rubbing frustrated hands through his hair, quiff now messy from Dan's tackle and their subsequent closeness.

"I shouldn't be putting this all on you. There's not really any advice you can give me," he says. They're both sitting on their sides, facing each other, a few inches between them. Dan smiles at Phil's attempt to push his hair back up, getting his own hands into Phil's hair and rubbing them around, messing it up completely.

"Hey!" Phil laughs, protesting Dan's horrible, _horrible_ behaviour (and protesting against his own urge to find Dan's wrists and keep his hands there, tangled in his hair).

"Worry less, Phil," he says, chuckling at Phil's pathetic attempt to smooth down the newly acquired bird’s nest on his head. "You're going to be a king, and no one tells a king what to do." Dan laughs fully now, and Phil glances down in time to see his tongue poking out to wet his lips. It's a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver down his spine nonetheless. "You can make your own laws, spend time with anyone you want, you can have _anyone_ you want. So worry less." And then Dan's soft eyes find his own again, a small smile adorning his lips, and Phil can't help smiling back.

"I can't have _anyone_ , though," Phil says softly, furrowing his brows. And he doesn't know why he said it but he knows it frustrates some part of him.

"You can."

"I really can't."

Dan takes his face in his hands, cradling his cheeks, and Phil actually gasps at the contact. Their eyes are forced together, Dan's stare unblinking. "You. Can," he says, punctuating each word by shaking Phil's head with his hands. It's a subtle movement, but it makes Phil feel like his brain is ricocheting off the sides of his skull. He looks at Dan's face, eyes jumping from one point to another wildly, the close proximity spinning his brain into chaos. Dan's smirk is wicked, then, from where it was soft on his lips, lips that are very shiny and red after he glossed over them with his tongue earlier—

Dan lets go of Phil's face, patting his cheek twice before moving back a few inches. Phil just stares. Is this normal? This isn't normal. Right?

"I can tell you about my crushes if you think it might help."

Phil swallows, nodding. "Yeah, please." He tells himself he's fine.

"I'm assuming you've had your fair share of royal boners, right?"

Phil is _not_ fine. He's surprised his eyes don't hang out of his sockets from how wide he opens them. "Excuse me?"

Dan had gone back to his position on his back, but he turns back on his side at Phil's reaction. "You _have_ had a hard-on before, haven’t you?"

Phil doesn't really know how to explain himself.

"I have… had them," he barely forces the words out, not really sure how to phrase it all. Dan is surprisingly crude in every way imaginable, but he can't talk like him. "Not intentionally, though," he admits. He thinks Dan is suppressing his reaction to that, but he doesn't actually show any signs that he is judging him, not this time. His face is understanding.

"That's okay." He gives an encouraging smile. Phil doesn't want that to be it.

"Tell me about yours. Your… experiences," he pushes.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course I'm sure," Phil says, putting on his most affronted face. He might be inexperienced, but he's not a complete prude.

Dan laughs at Phil's offense, clucking his tongue. If Phil didn't know better he'd maybe say Dan looked endeared. And he can't have that, can he?

"How much experience can you even have, you're, what, sixteen? Seventeen?"

"I have… enough." Is what Dan opts for, visibly suppressing laughter.

"Well go on, then. Wouldn't want to waste any time if the list is so long." Phil huffs. Dan looks at him for a beat and erupts into his trademark raucous laughter.

"Phil, Phil…" He wipes his eyes. "You look like you're gonna shit yourself, relax. And in any case, I'm not really listing anything, that's not what we're doing. Or at least I'm not listing _people_."

"What are you listing then?"

"Why, sexual acts, of course," Dan says, sporting a cheeky grin.

Phil gulps, then shakes his head. "Go on."

"I'm sixteen, by the way. And a half, if that's relevant."

Phil looks at Dan's soft face, barely out of the babyface stage, and wonders briefly if people in the village always have this much experience by the time they're Phil's age. Then, he wonders if any princes have experience and he's the only one left behind. He'd have to talk to Nicky about this at some point.

Phil nods, urging Dan on.

"Right. Well, obviously I snogged some girls, and it was pleasant, but it only went beyond that a handful of times. There was this one girl, though, Evelyn, and she was nice. I liked her. We didn't actually go all the way but she did suck me off a few times. I am a gentleman, of course, so I returned the favour." Dan beams at him, clearly proud of that last part.

Phil kinda wants to rip Evelyn's eyes out. It surprises him, the anger he feels towards her. No matter who she is, hearing Dan say he had liked her makes his whole body ache, making him almost nauseous. He shakes his head, looking everywhere _but_ Dan's face.

"I think I changed my mind, I don't want to hear about it." It comes out venomous, and Phil feels the venom of it as well, licking his insides like a snake, slowly consuming him. He wants to add _You can keep Evelyn to yourself_ but he reigns it in before it spills past his lips.

"Phil…?" And there is no mistaking the hurt in Dan's voice. And that makes Phil's insides hurt even more. Phil can't decide what's more frustrating about this situation, how it makes him feel, or how it makes him act. He decides that his feelings can probably sit on the back burner for a while if expressing them makes Dan's usually confident, clear and loud voice sound so tiny and insecure. He breathes in and forces himself to look at Dan.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I reacted like that. I truly do want to know more about you, everything there is to know, it's just…" How can he put it into words? "I don't know what it is. I'm stupid. I'm acting stupidly."

Eloquent.

Phil sits up and hugs his knees, resting his cheek on top of them. He feels heat rise in his cheeks, embarrassment lighting him on fire. He didn't want to hurt Dan, but hearing him talk about this random girl who did… _things_ to him had made him feel some way he'd never felt before. It made him say things he didn't really mean.

Dan comes up behind him and hugs his back, burrowing his face into Phil's neck, nuzzling into his hair. Phil can feel his creeping panic settle, leaning into the comforting touch, letting himself stay there, be held by Dan. It's nice, and it's chasing away the poisonous feeling in his veins, so he figures there's _something_ right about it. Dan is as accommodating to Phil as he ever is.

"Hey, it's okay, it's fine." And he rubs soft fingers into Phil's side. Phil's probably never felt as simultaneously relaxed and tense as in that moment.

"I hope you don't feel like you have to baby me, Dan. I'm a prince, yes, but I can take a bit of tough love."

Dan gets his other hand into Phil's hair, where his face is still resting, breathing in, and he massages the scalp, playing with the longer bits of it, smoothing it out and rubbing his skin in tiny circles.

"You don't need tough love, Phil. You just need normal love." His arms wrap around Phil at that, hugging him tightly, chest to back. "I can give you a bit of that. I have some for everyone."

Phil wants to cry. Dan is… Dan is the fucking sun. He doesn't question things, he doesn't judge or get upset or angry… He just gives. He gives and gives and wants nothing back, and Phil sees so many problems with that, so many ways in which Dan is vulnerable, so many ways in which _being Dan_ is the most dangerous and stupid endeavour of all, but he's also the only person he's met that just brings light to whatever situation he's in, and _light_ is something that Phil desperately needs.

***

"You'll tell me about sex at some point, right? Promise me." Phil says after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

"I can tell you any time you want if you're sure you want to hear it. I might not believe you want to hear it, though, after today."

And Phil _hates_ that.

"Dan, no," he says, desperate to clear everything up between them. "I can tell my own limits, and you need to trust me. Please trust me." He almost begs in that last sentence.

Dan just holds him tighter.

"I trust you, Philly," he says, voice sleepy. Phil's heart soars. He decides they've stayed in the mud for long enough, then, forcing himself to break out of Dan's grasp to get them both on their feet, pulling Dan up. The boy then attaches himself to Phil's front, holding onto him way past what is strictly necessary and verging into ridiculous territory. Phil separates them after giving Dan one last squeeze, smiling uncontrollably at Dan's baby behaviour.

"Do you not have work to get back to?" he asks. Dan looks at him with furrowed brows, eyes still half-closed, staring like he's asked an impossibly stupid question.

"I called in sick after you gave me that note. I didn't have any way of knowing what you had in mind for today, after all."

"Oh, okay." Phil breathes, asking himself if their meeting today was worthy of calling in sick for the whole day. "If you're still free, we can go up to my quarters. Only if you'd like that, of course."

Dan smiles. "I would love that."

***

Phil's chambers don't have guards at the entrance. For all it's worth, staff and the people permanently inhabiting the castle can roam freely in all the castle wings. Sure, there are some guards at the wing entrances, but they let almost everybody enter with no issues. And since Phil's had the extension to the kitchens installed, people of all professions come in and out of his wing regularly. They don't let guests go into the royal quarters without someone attending to them, however, and they do a pretty good job of sensing dangerous situations so they're there when you really need them. They're all quite good at their job, _and_ nice people, so Dan and Phil have no issues going into his room. After all, Dan works in the castle and, as a patissier, there's nothing inherently suspicious about him going into the upstairs kitchens. The guards don't have to know that he takes a detour to Phil's room. They go up separately, Phil first and then Dan a few minutes later.

They spend the rest of the day eating snacks in Phil's room, laughing at random things, stories one of them tells, the other always halfway off the bed with laughter. It makes something click and settle inside Phil, makes him realize how badly he'd needed this. Needed a friend.

At that moment they're sat face to face, legs crossed, Phil sitting with his back against the headboard while Dan sits in front of him, holding a book.

"Okay, okay…" Dan says, between bouts of laughter, "You're telling me Shakespeare wrote an entire sonnet about his erect penis? And _you_ caught it?" he stops to laugh again. "You never fail to surprise me, oh doth young maiden."

"Shut _up_." Phil laughs, punching Dan's arm. "I'm quite perceptive, and either way it's so obvious! Read it again, out loud, tell me it's not obvious."

Dan clears his throat, straightens his back, and goes in for the kill.

_"My soul doth tell my body that he may_   
_Triumph in love: flesh stays no further reason_   
_But rising at thy name doth point out thee_   
_As his triumphant prize."_

Dan breaks off, voice breaking as he starts cackling on the last verse. "Okay this is ridiculous," he offers, holding eye contact with a grinning Phil. "I can barely make out what he's saying here, the breaks in the verses make it so… _weird_."

Phil gestures towards the book. "Give it to me, I'll read it so that you get it." Dan passes the gigantic tome, open on sonnet 151. Phil rests it on his open knees, searching for the fragment on the page for a second before he finds it. He gives Dan a mischievous look before he starts reciting the verses, ditching the iambic pattern Shakespeare intended in lieu of speaking the sonnet normally, conversationally, not stopping when the verse ends and instead tying the words together.

"My soul doth tell my body that he may triumph in love. Flesh stays no further _reason_ , but _rising_ at thy name doth point out thee as his triumphant prize," Phil says, voice gone deep and dramatic, eyes clocking up to stare into Dan's own on the words "his triumphant prize". He sees Dan's Adam's apple bob, briefly and barely there, not nearly as pronounced as Phil's.

Dan laughs weakly and Phil feels the need to lead the conversation, sensing a weird energy coming from Dan.

"See?" he says. "The flesh is rising and literally _pointing_ to her. It doesn't get more obvious than that. And he calls her his triumphant prize, as well." Phil scoffs. "One lucky lady, whoever she is."

Dan is staring intently at the book, not saying anything. Phil frowns.

"Are you okay?" he asks Dan, ducking his head to try to catch his eye. He waits a few seconds and then he's met, quite suddenly, with endless pools of brown. They don't say anything for a few seconds and Phil takes his time just to look. Dan's eyes are quite striking. Most royals, or at least the ones Phil has met, have eyes that are blue or green or grey, but so very rarely do they have brown eyes. It just doesn't happen. To get brown eyes in a royal family you'd have to get outsider blood in the mix, and that means, more often than not, to be excommunicated, shunned. Because brown eyes mean low class. And that means shame.

Sure, Phil has seen tons of brown eyes in the kitchens, and on the people changing his linens or cleaning his bathroom every day, but he's never been close enough to those people to really _look_.

And now he's really looking. And it leaves his throat dry. Because he suddenly realises why Dan's eyes are so warm, why looking at him calms him down, why looking at him feels like coming home. It's his eyes. Brown eyes look so open. They fit Dan. They fit the boy with wide stares, the boy full of trust for him and the world and the future and the _now_. They fit his soft curls, the way everything about him is soft and cuddly and so _comfortable_ to look at. _They’re_ why he can't look away.

Dan clears his throat. "Are _you_ okay, Phil? You look a little lost," he laughs. Phil can see, though. It's not a natural laugh, and it leaves the room feeling a little dry, like the moisture has been sucked out.

 _I'm fine_ is what Phil wants to say, but that's not what comes out. "You've got brown eyes," he says, almost whispering the words.

It's an obvious observation, something that could be easily laughed off if they wanted to, could be easily brushed away as something Phil's filter didn't catch in time. But they don’t. And it isn't. Phil finds that he doesn't regret this particular slip-up.

"I do." is what Dan says, brows now furrowed and looking at Phil like he's waiting for something.

The thing is…

The thing is, Dan's eye colour is just another reminder of who he is, why they shouldn't be spending time together, why they shouldn't be friends. It's not a revelation, not quite, but it's _something_. It's not law, that he can't. It's common sense. Because why _would_ he want to be friends with someone whose social class is stamped permanently into their irises? It would look bad, and for what? What does Dan offer him that Nicky or his other far-away prince friends don't? Phil feels like he has a tiny demon on his shoulder, arguing with him relentlessly. It's not the first time he notices this particular creature trying to get into his head, to poison his thoughts. It is the first time, however, that he manages to flick it off his shoulder, mentally dusting them of any tiny specks of hellfire and self-doubt that it might have left behind.

Phil sighs. He gives Dan a small smile. "They're beautiful."

The smile Dan gives him rivals the sun. It's happy, and blindingly so, and Phil is suddenly overwhelmed by his big limbs as Dan jumps to hug him, trapping the book between them. He almost doesn't care that the cover is painfully digging into his stomach, because Dan's arms around him hold him tight, so tight, and he breathes out warm puffs against his neck. Phil feels warm all over, fondness making his own smile widen on his face until his eyes are closed. Dan lets go a few moments later, taking the book and closing it, gingerly putting it at the foot of the bed. He gets off the bed then, and Phil is hoisted up into his arms before he can even register what's happening. He lets out a sound of protest that gets ignored and feels Dan move him lower on the bed, sitting him down in the middle, slightly towards the left side of the mattress. Dizzy from the movement, he goes along when Dan pushes on his shoulder and lays him down completely. Seconds later, Dan is next to him, sharing a pillow, still smiling.

"Cuddle time," he says, draping his arm over Phil's middle and pulling him closer. Phil is simultaneously comforted by the position they're in and positively burning alive, cock twitching helplessly in his pants. He tells himself it's because he's laid down in bed with another warm body, and decidedly _not_ because that warm body is Dan.

"Cuddle time…" he replies, slightly out of breath from being manhandled. And really, they can't stay like this for long. Soon the maids will be here, ready to make his bed and prepare his room for sleep, and they'll have to find a way to get Dan out without being seen. But Phil shushes those thoughts and lets himself relax against him, breathe in the smell of him, warm and slightly musky, earthy and sweet. Dan nuzzles into his hair a few minutes in, and Phil realises he wants to stay in that moment forever.

***

They don't meet every day but it's a damn near thing. Phil learns Dan's schedule by heart after the first week and the sneaking around gets borderline ridiculous. They mostly meet at night, when Dan can sneak out of his chambers downstairs into Phil's. Phil has to have a few conversations with the guards about Dan's frequent trips into the royal wing, and he thankfully manages to make up one excuse and stick with it. Dan's there to bake for him. That's all. And if Phil looks like a right nonce for "waking up" the "poor kid" every night past midnight to bake him cookies, he thinks he can live with that. It doesn't hurt that Dan really _does_ bake him cookies from time to time, delicious ones at that, and Phil tries to keep his laughter at a minimum when Dan's clever quips get the best of him, lest the guards or other servants who happen to be awake find him fraternizing with _the enemy_. Dan is a _seriously_ fun enemy to have, though.

They also meet by daytime, going for walks in the gardens, Phil showing Dan his favourite places, even though they're mostly dry and the trees are mostly naked in the wintertime. Phil can't wait for spring, and for summer and for autumn with Dan, so he can show him the gardens in all their glory, pink with flowers and dry from the heat, windy and nostalgic right after the end of summer.

They also meet in the hallways, suppressing smiles when they pass each other. Sometimes Phil greets him, depending on his company, and sometimes he satisfies himself with stolen glances, furtive eye-contact that leaves a warm trail of light into his chest cavity and down his whole body. And even those times when he can only glance a tuft of Dan's hair in a crowd of people or recognizes his hands carrying a tray from here to there, even then, something glows inside him, and he can't help his face from being overtaken with wide smiles and scrunched up eyes. It earns him confused glances from the people around him, and by the end of February he's sure he's got a bit of a reputation around the castle for grinning like an idiot at inappropriate or just plain _weird_ times, but he's a prince, so no one mentions it to him and he lives blissfully unaware, or rather willfully unaware, of any and all gossip about him. He trusts the people of the castle, though, and he's sure the "gossip" is harmless, but he can't bring himself to care either way.

Because, somehow, in less than a month that he's known the boy, Dan has made the castle a home again. He finds that he feels less and less like he doesn't belong, starts feeling less alienated and even starts enjoying (barely, but he'll take it) the company of other royals. It's downright _pleasant_.

"Daaa-niel…" he sing-songs, sticking his hands out blindly and listening out for a certain curly-headed boy's giggles. They soon come, faint in his right ear, and he quickly turns around, trying to catch him but only gripping air. Real, loud laughter comes from behind him, then, cackles full of mischief and mirth. He spins and grabs again, and fails again.

"You'll have to try harder than that, Philly," he says, laughing and running in circles around a disoriented Phil.

Phil huffs and tugs the blindfold off his eyes to find a pouting Dan watching him.

"It's no fun if you take it off," he says, and if Phil couldn't so clearly hear the whine in Dan's voice he might not have been so endeared. Unfortunately, he does hear it and he is very much endeared. He tosses the piece of fabric to the ground and tackles Dan, both of them tumbling on the cold ground. Phil then starts tickling the younger boy, trailing dancing fingers over his ribcage and into his neck, admiring the loud giggles and screams he gets out of him. He keeps it going until Dan literally begs him to stop, pushing at his hands uselessly. Phil collapses next to him and watches Dan, scrambling back on his feet and running away when Dan tries to get him back.

They play a lot. Phil thinks he's played more games since he met Dan than he ever did as a kid. Dan just _knows_ things. Sayings, poetry, funny rhymes, dances, games, songs. Spending time with him… It makes Phil _enjoy life_. Dan teaches him how the people of the village kill time, tells him about summer, when he braids flower crowns and plays hide and seek in the corn, tells him about winter, when all the neighbours gather in one room and tell stories by the fire to keep warm and distract themselves, tells him about the good times and the ugly times, tells him about his love for baking and how it came from his mother, who would make sweets on his birthday with the little sugar they could get their hands on.

Phil, in turn, shares a bit of himself as well. It's the tiny things that they tell each other. Phil tells him about the last patissier, the one Dan replaced when he came on as an apprentice, shares some funny anecdotes about him and Nicky, and they get on like they've been friends their whole life.

The only problem is, well, some of it is a bit… somber. Wistful. Because Phil knows he can't really go into the village. Dan can't share his life with him in any other way than with words, and he knows words can't really make up for all the things he will never see from Dan's point of view. When Dan tells him about the tiny room and the neighbours, Phil's chest tightens. Dan must see something because he calls Phil out on it.

"Hey, Phil?"

Phil makes a sound. It doesn't sound like anything in particular.

"Are you okay?"

They're lying on Phil's bed, and Phil's got his head buried into one of the pillows. He's not sure how Dan noticed he was tense, seeing as his face is hidden from view, but he really shouldn’t be surprised. Dan is great with body language. He turns a tiny bit so his face shows, but not enough that his face isn't comically squished into his pillow. Dan lets out a snort. Phil glares.

"I'm fine. I was enjoying your story, Daniel. Do go on."

"Prim and proper, are you?"

Phil smiles crookedly. "Always." He turns his head back into the pillow, reaching his hand out in the air behind him, searching the bed and the air until he finds Dan's arm. He trails his hand down lazily until he reaches his fingers and settles his palm over them. He hides a smile into the pillow. Dan's fingers twitch and he turns his palm around, gripping Phil's hand and holding it. Phil dozes off after a while.

***

Eventually, spring starts rolling in. It's a slow process, and another wave of snow and ice comes before the landscape defrosts for good, but spring comes nonetheless. Phil and Dan walk the gardens almost every day after Dan's shift, enjoying the slightly warmer air with their fingers intertwined at their sides, second nature by now to have a point between them that anchors them together. Dan's touch is always grounding and warm, and always exhilarating to Phil's heart's fragile tempo.

It's always _something_ with Dan. Their friendship is as much laughter and mucking about as it is catches of Phil's breath, elevated heartbeats and things he can't pinpoint that swarm in his belly when they break the barrier of physical contact. It's hair standing on end, holding of breath, knotting in his throat when he doesn't know what to say. It's also comfort and a deep mutual understanding, warm and unpredictable. He tries not to show Dan how vulnerable the boy makes him feel, but he's always been so easy to read, Phil thinks a tad sourly.

Their conversation slows to a natural stop as they thread through the blossoming gardens, peaceful silence falling over them, another thing Phil is grateful that Dan can give him. He feels then that he needs to share a bit of what's been bothering him, nagging the back of his mind for a few days now. It's easy to feel safe with Dan, easy to feel like he can tell him anything. Everything. Phil is scared to know what Everything even is.

"Tomorrow I'm meeting with one of the girls."

He doesn't need to elaborate any further for Dan to know what he means.

"Oh," is what the younger boy says. Dan's hand kind of… drops away from his, falling to his side. Phil hesitates for a second, then stubbornly takes it back into his, tightly locking his fingers in between Dan's. Can't Dan see that he needs all the comfort he can get? Phil is _stressed_. Stressed is probably a weak word for it, actually. He's petrified. He voices that last part. Dan answers.

"It'll be fine, Phil, really." He looks a bit shifty as he says it, though, and Phil watches him closely.

"Now say it like you mean it," he says pointedly, bitterly.

Dan scoffs at that, rolling his eyes.

"I do mean it, it's just…" He's not looking at Phil, instead opting to examine the gardens like they hadn't been going in circles for the past half hour. Phil tries to soften his tone to something more gentle.

"It's just what?" he asks, trying to catch Dan's eye.

Dan suddenly turns his face back to his with a wide smile on his face, a bit tight on the edges. It doesn't fully reach his eyes.

"It's nothing. You need to get excited about this, it's a great opportunity!"

Phil sighs. "You know how I feel about this. I don't see it like that."

"That's why we need to get you to see how great this could be. Potentially." The wide smile on his face has relaxed a bit, but he's clearly forcing his enthusiasm for Phil's sake. Phil's not sure how to feel about that.

"Potentially…"

"She could be gorgeous, Phil. And beyond that, she could be funny and kind and just. Great. This is a whole new _person_ you're going to meet. She could be like anything. Sure, it's a random game of chance, and she could as well be awful, but you need to enjoy the thrill of not knowing. The suspense of it all." Dan's talking like he's telling a story, like he's speaking to a thousand people, not just Phil, and it's captivating and frightening at the same time.

"And she's not the only one you'll meet if it doesn't go well. You get to roll the dice until you win.” Phil doesn’t want to comment that that’s simply not true, that there are only a few kingdoms that can offer them a big enough army to ensure their safety. “And…” he continues, "Maybe most important of all, if it doesn't work out for you romantically, you can stay friends. I stayed friends with Evelyn, after all."

"That's a bit of a different situation," Phil says, words muttered in a bit of a bitter tone.

"Different, yes. But what I said still stands," Dan says, ignoring Phil's sass. "Do you know who she is?" he asks Phil, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"I know her name is Suzette and that's all."

"That's a pretty name."

"Yeah, well. It doesn't matter much yet, does it?"

"You might want to go into this with an open mind. Compliment her name when you meet. Or anything else, really. Just make an effort."

Phil sighs. Again. He seems to be doing that a lot when it comes to Dan and this particular topic. "I promise I will. I'll say her name is pretty. Now can we please talk about something else?"

Dan looks almost offended. "You were the one to bring it up, mate. Might want to take that complaint up with yourself."

Phil groans, dropping his head back. It earns him a satisfied chuckle from his right. "Shut up."

"I thought you wanted to talk?" Dan says, faux innocence and wide eyes that could be convincing if he didn't have sarcasm etched into every muscle.

"I hate you."

"We can talk about your poor, neglected dick again if you'd like. Many topics to choose from, really."

Phil's gone red down to his toes. He lets go of Dan's hand and buries his face in his hands, turning around and walking decidedly in the other direction. He flips Dan the bird as he walks away to the sound of bright, loud cackles and footsteps racing up to him.

***

So… Turns out. Suzette is actually really funny. And really nice. And her face is pretty and she doesn't seem too concerned with her status.

Phil hates it.

He doesn't hate _her_ , obviously, because there _is_ nothing to hate about her. But he's also not really interested. Her presence and company are endlessly entertaining, and her jokes and observations about her life are so funny that she has Phil in stitches the whole time, but he's also simultaneously way too in his head to really enjoy any of it. Anytime he laughs he does so with an underlying sense of unease, and he hopes it doesn't show. To her benefit, she keeps the conversation going even when Phil has no idea what to say, and they don't really joke around, per se, but she tells stories, Phil laughs, and it's overall comfortable and nice.

They're mostly left alone to their devices, only the first part of their meeting being in one of the dining halls, their families around the table, Phil and Suzette (Suzy, as she insists she wants to be called) facing each other. Phil is asked about his interests and screened to see if he's a good potential match for Suzy, but he's easily left off the hook when her family realises that he's the least threatening human alive. Maybe.

The rest of the night is spent walking around the castle, and they end up in the courtyard after a while, meeting drawing to an end. The courtyard is empty, thanks to the late hour, moon peeking over the walls of the castle, its white aura illuminating the otherwise darkened place, light reflecting off the shiny cobblestones, polished by hundreds of feet that scuff over them every day. There's a distant warm glow coming from one of the entrances back into the castle. Phil and Suzy halt to a stop in the corner opposite from the light, and when Phil looks at her, the only thing illuminating her skin is the cold shine of the moon. He swallows somewhat heavily. Suzy stops talking for the first time since they went outside, and Phil isn't confident on what he thinks is about to happen.

Suzy speaks.

"I really enjoyed today, Phil," she says, and she sounds earnest. Phil's hackles rise by the second. He pushes them down. Tries to. He still feels scared.

"I did too," he answers, and he finds that he's not lying.

"You're really easy to talk to, you know?" she says, smiling a tentative but wide smile. Phil first thinks that her smile is pretty, then for some reason thinks of Dan. And with the thought of Dan comes the memory of their last conversation.

"Um… This might be weird, seeing as you've told me your name hours ago, but. It's really pretty. Your name, I mean." It's an attempt. He made peace with how awkward he is long ago, so he merely sighs and waits for an answer.

"Oh. Thank you," she says, and she sounds genuinely delighted. Phil almost cringes away from her.

Throughout the night he's found that Suzy is quite an assertive person. So. It shouldn't come as a surprise when she asserts herself.

"I'm going to kiss you now," she says, and she waits for a brief second, probably giving Phil time to say no, but. First of all, he's too shocked at her bold statement to say anything, and second of all, he probably wouldn't stop her anyway. Phil tries to gather himself. He feels like this is what it's been leading up to the whole time, like it's expected of him, so he does what he thinks he should.

"Okay," he says.

Then he leans in, letting her jump on the tips of her toes so she reaches him. He grabs her shoulders, not knowing where to put his hands, and they kiss. It's a weird press of skin on skin at first, neither of them moving, and it remains a weird press of skin even after Suzy starts moving her lips against his. Looking past his nerves, the whole ordeal doesn't feel like much. He tries to follow her motions, but he's not sure what he's supposed to do, and it feels like the opposite of sparks flying. They part and Phil thinks she can sense it too. She gives him a small smile, and Phil's entire being catches fire. He's mortified.

They part ways quickly after that, and Phil gives her a reluctant hug.

That night Phil cries a bit. It's just a few tears, pathetic, yes, but he cries out of shame more than anything else. The thing that calms him down and puts him to sleep is the thing that he thinks about every night to fall asleep, a comforting image of Dan laying next to him with his eyes closed. The memory was taken in daylight, but he adjusts it so it fits the dark of the night, and he sleeps imagining the boy next to him. He doesn't sleep well, because Dan's not actually there, but he sleeps. So at least there's that.

***

Phil had to tell his father that he doesn't want to meet with Suzy anymore. His father was surprised, claiming that "they got on so well" and "what are you talking about Phil", but he let it go quite easily. Phil wishes he didn't know why. His father went easy on him this time because this is just the beginning. Girls are going to keep coming in, and Phil's going to have to keep kissing them. He thinks. He hopes not, though, at least on the kissing part. He knows he doesn't have much say in the rest of it.

But the first meeting is over and he's getting a bit of a respite from it all in the next week or so. Phil is so, so glad. He tells Dan about how it went with Suzy when he sneaks into his quarters the following night.

They're both laying on the bed side by side, Dan spread on his back and Phil keeping himself up with his elbow, hovering next to and above Dan. The torches lit around the room cast them in a warm glow, and if Phil wasn't already busy looking intently at Dan's face, he might have gotten lost in the auburn flickers of light and heat coming from them. As it stands, though, he's a bit lost watching the way they reflect on Dan's closed eyelids, light and shadow dancing on his skin, in the creases of his lips and on the curves of his cheeks. He wants to reach out and touch. He doesn't.

Dan had just arrived in his room, plopped himself on the bed with his eyes closed and let out a long sigh. Phil had had to put his book away on his bedside table, Ophelia's woes forgotten in favour of looking at frizzy brown hair and wide lips.

"Did something happen?" he asks Dan, who's thrown a hand over his eyes.

Dan blows up his cheeks like a frog and lets out a whoosh of air from his lips, making them move funny. Phil lets out an involuntary giggle. Dan, in turn, pops one eye open to glare at him halfheartedly.

"Nothing happened," he says, covering his eye again. He pauses, then erupts. "It's just this _one_ recipe--"

Phil laughs.

"It doesn't work! I tried it with a lot of sugar, then not so much sugar, every temperature you can imagine, everything. Everyone's mad at me for wasting their _precious_ resources," he twists the word 'precious' with a curl of his upper lip, "But no one has a recipe for this particular sweet and _forgive_ _me_ if I actually want to work it out on my own."

"I forgive you," Phil says, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. He's torn between taming his smile because it literally _aches_ and the incessant need to keep smiling. He's glad Dan's eyes are closed because the internal battle he has with himself must translate very poorly on his face. "What sweet is that?"

"It's a Chinese sweet. I saw the description and I thought _oh that sounds nice_ so I looked for a recipe and there is none, Phil, none." He sounds so frustrated it tears a bit at Phil's heart. It's also very amusing, if he's being honest.

"So how did you know what to try?"

Dan takes his hand off his face and opens his eyes fully at that. "I'm crafty, Philip."

Phil snorts. "Stop." He softens a bit then. "I know you are, though. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

It's Dan's turn to snort. "No, I don't think I will, to be honest. It was stupid of me to think I could recreate a traditional recipe with only the description of the finished product. And I'm stubborn, of course, so I didn't listen to everyone telling me I was wasting my time." He turns his head away from Phil. "It's a bit embarrassing, actually," he says, voice smaller than before.

Phil reaches out for Dan's hand then, twining their fingers together in the air and holding their linked hands up between them. It's a relaxed, if not a bit strange, pose, and Dan shoots it a questioning look but Phil barrels on. "Hey, none of that, okay? Sure, it didn't work out this time around but I need you to try new things, we all do, in fact. Who knows, maybe if you try again you'll manage to do it-" Dan tries to interrupt. Phil doesn't let him. " _Or_ maybe you'll create something new. A new traditional confection." Phil smiles wide.

Dan's lips twitch. "Traditional means old. Idiot." He's smiling back, though, and Phil notes with pride that Dan didn't try to fight him on the previous topic again.

"Traditional means traditional. We can make a new tradition anytime we want," he argues back.

"Pff, no. I don't buy into a tradition unless it's like, a thousand years old."

"Well how d'you know it's a thousand years old, huh?" Phil says with a playful tone.

Dan looks proud as he says "My mummy tells me."

Phil looks at him for a second, registering. Then he bursts out laughing. Dan pouts, then gives in and his dimples make an appearance.

"I don't have to say anything," Phil says, rubbing his free hand over his tired eyes, folded up from laughter. "You know what I'd say, though," he says, looking over to a disgruntled, yet amused Dan, feeling his face heat up when he sees the boy's pouty smile.

"You better not." is the response he receives, and, well. That's how that subject is dropped, he guesses. Phil is then reminded of a certain _thing_ that happened that he needs to tell Dan about. His hand suddenly feels clammy where it holds Dan's.

"So, listen. You know I saw Suzy yesterday, right?"

Dan's eyebrows shoot up. "Yeah, you did. That's right. How was it?" He sounds genuinely curious, although Phil notices he hesitates a bit in between words.

"I mean it was nice, I guess. She's funny and really pretty." Dan's hand tightens its grip on his almost imperceptibly. Phil pays it no mind. "We had a fun time, but, uh. She kissed me at the end." And, wow. Dan's grip is kind of cutting off the blood supply to his fingers now. Phil points it out and Dan releases his hand entirely. He's not looking at him as he speaks.

"That's great. Are you going to be seeing her a lot from now on, then?"

Phil's never been scared to say something to Dan before, but he is now. Dan just looks… kind of aggressive in that moment. His brows are furrowed and he's looking straight ahead, head propped up on the headboard. He fears that whatever he will say next might upset him, or anger him, and it's very, _very_ unsettling. Dan is painted garlands running through lit up forests, sunny skies and laughter. He's not the tense, closed up and distanced boy he sees in front of him right then.

"I didn't really like it, though," he whispers, feeling for some reason close to tears. He needs Dan _close to him_ , goddammit, not far away with brick walls behind his eyes. Dan takes one look at him, though, and the apathy is wiped from his face, eyebrows meeting high up on his forehead and lip making its way between his teeth.

"Shit," he voices quietly. "Phil, are you okay?"

Phil sniffles, but no tears actually make it down his face. Thank God for that. "I'm fine," he says, voice rough. He clears his throat and tries again. "I'm fine. It's just. I'm so scared, Dan." And then there's tears. "She was _lovely_ , Dan so fucking lovely. But I was dreading it all night and when it finally happened it didn't feel like anything at all." Phil stares at one of the shadowed spots of the room. "It felt like nothing at all," he says, and he can feel his eyes going unfocused as tears fill them and slip down without him blinking or moving.

Phil's hand is numb underneath him from holding him up. Luckily that's the moment Dan decides to move, pulling both of them in a sitting position and engulfing Phil in a bear hug, tightly squeezing him, running soothing hands into his hair and pulling away the tiniest bit to wipe the tear tracks off his face. Phil guesses it would look quite sweet from the outside looking in, if he didn't feel so filled to the brim with dread.

"What do I do?" he asks absently, feeling himself drift away, floating around the room and seeing the whole scene unfold like a play before his very eyes. He has a fleeting thought that this shouldn't happen, but then Dan speaks. And he sounds panicked.

"Phil? Phil. Phil, look at me." And Phil can't because he's floating.

But then Dan pinches him while saying his name and he snaps back into his body like a fresh twig would snap off a tree. His eyes go wide.

"What just happened?" Phil asks.

"I don't know, but you scared me, is what happened. You went somewhere else for a good second there."

Phil blinks, then shakes his head. Dan is looking at him with worried eyes and he thinks he might need a brief pause from all this. He gets up from the bed, Dan's hands around him stopping him from getting too far.

"Where are you going?" he asks, and Phil doesn't really have an answer.

"Out? I need some air."

Dan nods.

"The kitchens? You can go onto the balcony and we can eat something if you want." His hands still haven't left Phil's waist, fingers linked behind his back. Phil unlinks them gently and Dan frowns until Phil takes his right hand in his left and tugs him towards the door.

***

They sit on the balcony for a while, Phil eating a strawberry tart and Dan munching on some bread. Phil looked at him funny when he picked up _bread_ , of all things, but he let it slide because, well, because frankly he was tired and he didn't have a good quip on hand. Dan looked blissed out while chewing the first bite, though, so Phil's need to poke fun dissipated rather quickly.

"Did you eat anything today?" Phil asks, the corners of his mouth tugged down by some invisible force named Concern For Dan.

"Uhh…" Dan hesitates, brown mush visible in the way he chews with his mouth half-open, searching for an answer. Phil supposes he should find it disgusting, but he really doesn't. "I did. I ate some of the batter mixture for that candy I was telling you about."

Phil just stares.

"What?" Dan asks, looking genuinely confused. Phil could punch his teeth out.

"What ' _what_ '? Are you mad? That's not food."

Dan rolls his eyes. "People fast all the time, Phil. I fast all the time," he says, emphasis on the "I".

"Why would you _do_ that?"

Dan shrugs. "I'm used to it, it's okay. Everyone in the villages learns to do it at some point, winters are just _like that_. I guess my appetite just now caught up with the fact that we're coming into spring."

Phil's kind of stumped after that. They stay silent for minutes and minutes, and Phil guesses they're not far from sunrise when he opens up a discussion again.

"So, seeing as I'm… okay… now, do you have an answer to my question?" He turns so that he's facing Dan. Dan's chewing his last bite of bread. He gestures to his mouth and stays silent, Phil watching the way his jaw works against the slightly stale, crunchy food. He watches the bite go down as Dan's Adam's apple bobs and he feels his own do the same, for probably different reasons. Probably.

"I think I need some water. That bread sucked all the moisture out of my mouth," he says, standing up and going into the kitchen, coming back a minute later with two cups of water. He holds one out for Phil.

"Thanks."

Dan smiles. "Yeah, so, you probably won't like my answer, because it's not really an answer. Or, maybe… Yeah, I don't know. Point is, kissing isn't always fun on the first try. She probably knew as little about it as you did, and if you're both too focused on being good at kissing, you'll probably end up being shit at it." Phil cringes at Dan's words. Dan isn't looking at him this time around, either, but his face is relaxed and peaceful and Phil takes a bit of comfort in that. "You should try again, practice more, and it'll probably feel better." Dan pauses. "Yeah, that's all, really."

Phil ponders it for a bit. "It might be hard practicing with her, seeing as I sent her away this morning." Phil should feel guilty about it, he really should. She was nice and he didn't even give her a fair chance. But he also felt sick to his stomach simply looking at her, fearing her and everything she brought along so much it made him nauseous. He didn't have any explanation for that fear, but he wasn't one not to trust his gut when it told him something. Well, most of the time. His gut was doing treacherous things to him ever since he met Dan, and he wasn't sure which direction it was tugging him into.

"You sent her away?" Dan asks, and he looks shocked.

"Pick up your jaw off the floor, Daniel, it's my decision after all."

Dan gapes at him, mouthing something, or like, doing something with his mouth, before he snaps it shut. He decides to open it again soon enough.

"I never said it wasn't. It just seems… rash."

Phil shrugs. The stone floor is cold under his bum, but he thinks the fresh air is worth it. The view from the balcony is also worth it. Through the gaps in the masterfully carved stone, he sees everything. Miles and miles of his kingdom stretch before them, dark blue sky tinged with just enough colour that the outlines of the houses in the village are visible. Some have their lights on, and torches line the main pathway into the horizon. A thought hits him that that's kind of a dangerous thing to have. He notes to take it up with someone later. Some of the houses have already started their chimneys, and Phil thinks that those are the bakeries. They must start early to have bread for everyone, he supposes. He turns his head to look at Dan, admiring the stretch of his neck and the little hairs standing out at his nape. Dan is watching the horizon as well, and the silence is comfortable, although a bit charged. It's a while before Phil talks, but he continues more or less from where he left off, eyes not once leaving Dan's profile.

"I don't think I would have had any chemistry with her even if we did keep kissing," he says. Dan's eyes migrate to his.

"How are you so sure?" he asks. Phil breaks eye contact and stares down at their legs, stretched out in front of them but not touching. There's almost an itch in the back of his mind, telling him to find a point of contact, to line up their legs or knock their feet together. He stays put.

"I’m not sure. I guess I can't know. But it feels like that, you know?"

"Feels like…?"

Phil sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I guess this is about what it _doesn't_ feel like. And it doesn't… didn't feel right."

"I thought I already knocked the thoughts of a fairytale romance out of your head, Philly," he says, and it's not _mean_ , not really, Dan's most likely joking, but it irks him anyway. He manages a wry smile.

"You might have tried," he says. Then, quieter, "doesn't mean you succeeded."

"Phil…"

"I know. It won't happen like that for me, I know. But I still want it, okay? It's not too late to want it."

Dan's eyes look pained. He nods to himself. "I guess there's still time for it," he concedes.

Phil knows there isn't. Dan's humouring him, sure, but that doesn't mean anything. It's clear as day that Phil's not gonna get what he wants. It's with an internal sigh that he admits to himself that he's being stubborn. He's probably making this worse for himself than it needs to be, and it's probably time to listen to the advice people give him. It helps that 'people' in this situation is Dan.

Then comes the external sigh.

"You _are_ right. I just don't like it." It's not an admission he'd make for anyone else, but this is Dan. This is Dan and it's probably four or five in the morning and he already feels guilty enough for keeping him awake knowing that he has to go to work that day. He might as well. "I have no idea how kissing even works, though, and now that Suzy's gone I'll have to wait for the next girl and… God, I've embarrassed myself plenty already." He doesn't let Dan speak when he tries to, opting to flesh out more of his anxieties. It feels like a dam's been broken now that he's started talking about it and it pours out of him. "I don't want it to get out that I'm bad at this, as self-centred as that sounds. And I don't know if I can talk about this with them. They'll tell their friends and they'll laugh about it and I'll forever be known as Philip The Prude or something like that."

Dan snorts. He immediately grimaces. "Shit, sorry. It's just, um. It was funny."

Phil scoffs, smiling a bit. "You are allowed to laugh, just so you know. It's a ridiculous situation."

Dan smiles back, if a bit tight around the edges. "It was a ridiculous nickname, sure, but I don't think _you_ are ridiculous."

Phil warms up at the comment, even though his smile wanes a bit. "I am, though." He hates how small he sounds, how needy for validation he must look in Dan's eyes. But he can't control his insecurities and how they show up every time he speaks.

"You aren't. Never say that about yourself," he says, and he looks serious and actually a bit angry. Phil shrinks.

"Sorry," he says, and it's even smaller than before. Dan looks at him, eyes squinted, and for a few minutes, they fall silent. Dan is tugging at random strands and curls with one hand, alternating between that and chewing at his nails. Phil wants to say something or tug his hand away from his mouth but he's afraid to move. It's like they both know it's Dan's turn to talk. And soon enough, he does.

"What if I had a preposition?" he asks, nail still caught between his teeth, the top of it shiny with saliva. He looks at Phil with slightly raised brows, pinched in what Phil would classify as nerves. It sparks Phil's curiosity. Now that Dan's broken the stifling silence, however, he finds himself unable to stop from taking Dan's wrist in his and pulling his wet digit out of his mouth, placing Dan's hand in Dan's lap and patting it twice. Dan rolls his eyes. Phil narrows his in contemplation, turning fully towards the other boy.

"Let's hear it."

Phil sees Dan's hand twitch in his lap like he wants to bring it up to his face again. His eyes are flicking between Phil's face and the wall behind him. He's definitely nervous.

"What if I taught you how to kiss?"

A beat passes. It's always hard for Phil to deal with surprises, it's always been that way. His mind always draws a blank, whether it's a surprise gift or a surprise visit from someone, he never knows what to say, how to act. Phil thrives on routines, his whole social life built upon careful dances and choreographies. And by now he thought he had a social dance for every situation. Turns out that's not the case.

"What?" is all he can say.

"I can teach you the basics if you… ah, if you want." Dan looks less and less sure of himself by the second.

"Like, tell me the theory?" He feels stupid even asking. Why would Dan actually want to kiss him?

"Yes… That, and also. Um, practice?"

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"You want to kiss me?" His head feels like it's spinning on all axes at once. _Practice?_ is echoing inside him, bouncing off his skull and into his bones.

"I… I've done this before, Phil. Practice kissing, I mean. I wasn't _in love_ with every person I kissed back in the village."

Phil takes a second to wrap his head around it, staring at Dan slack-jawed. "Yes, okay, you weren't in love, but presumably they were girls?" It wasn't meant to be a question, but it comes out as one.

Dan looks down at his lap, fingers fiddling with the hem of his white blouse. It's nearly silent when he speaks next. "I've kissed boys before, Phil."

Phil's not judgemental, or so he likes to think. But he has never in his life heard about boys kissing other boys. "Do you… Do you prefer it that way?" Phil asks, and the conversation at that moment feels very tentative and fragile. Dan shrugs, but his cheeks are pink and Phil is almost sure his hands are shaking.

"I don't know if I prefer it either way," he says, and his voice shakes, so Phil must've been right about his hands too. He can't really look at him like that.

"Hey, Dan. Look at me, come here." He pulls him into a hug, but not before Dan shoots him a weird, questioning look. He hugs him as tight as he can, and Dan wheezes for a second in his arms, but Phil has a message to get across and he'll squeeze it into Dan's bones if he needs to. "Why are you so scared? You're shaking." Dan slips out of his grasp, but Phil keeps his arms on his forearms.

Dan's brows furrow. He speaks slowly then, like Phil is an idiot for asking. He supposes he might be, because this is the weirdest conversation he's had with someone by far. Despite the weirdness, though, something's been blooming and unfurling and growing in his chest from the moment Dan proposed kissing him. It's definitely weird.

"Phil. Three people were executed _last week_ for sodomy. They were hanged in the middle of the market."

And.

And.

Phil doesn't know what sodomy is. He doesn't know the definition. But his stomach drops to his feet all the same.

"You," he starts. He stops. He starts again. "Why would you do that, then? If it's illegal?" He's not sure it's illegal, or what is illegal, so he hesitates when asking.

Dan's hands wrap around his middle so he's hugging himself. He doesn't look quite as panicked anymore but he doesn't look calm either. Phil has come closer to Dan when he hugged him, and now they're touching from head to toe. Every point of contact, Phil can feel in his gut.

"It feels good, Phil. And it's not dangerous, unless," he trails off, wide eyes finding Phil's. He looks away just as quickly. Phil thinks he understands.

"Unless someone with authority finds out," he whispers, and Dan nods. Phil's blood simmers to a boil. He keeps his voice adjusted, however. He wants Dan to feel comfortable. "I would never do that to you. Ever."

Dan smiles genuinely for the first time in hours. He also holds eye contact with Phil and Phil's insides melt into goo. He is so, so fucked.

"I know. I trust you. It's still scary, though."

Phil nods. And then he realizes just how close to Dan he really is. His hands are still holding onto his forearms, fingers digging into overheated flesh. They look at each other for what seems like hours, but the sun hasn't even peeked out from behind the skyline yet. Time feels like it's gone still. Phil swallows.

"When do you plan on teaching me?" he whispers, feeling Dan's body heat in the air between them. And Phil figures that's enough of an answer to Dan's question.

Dan looks between them at where their bodies meet, then raises his eyes to Phil's face. He's not looking at Phil's eyes, though, and Phil's mouth falls open on instinct. He lets out a rush of air as he feels Dan's gaze on his lips, eyes hooded and pupils blown. Finally, though, he raises his eyes to Phil's.

"We don't have to do this, you know. It was just an idea. I can teach you verbally if that's what you want."

Phil shakes his head. "Is that what _you_ want?"

And then Dan shakes his head. Phil's eyes have drifted lower, watching Dan's full bottom lip as his tongue pokes out to wet it, leaving a shiny spot in the middle. Phil instinctually does the same thing and knows, in the back of his mind, that Dan's watching him too. He leans in a fraction, and Dan follows with a fraction more. They breathe the same air, inhaling the same breath over and over, and Phil feels lightheaded.

By the time their lips touch, just the barest brush of plush skin, the sun pokes out the tiniest bit, and the sky around them turns purple and pink. Phil barely registers it, offering one courtesy glance to the sun before he closes his eyes, pressing himself whole against Dan, pushing his lips against his and holding onto him for dear life. It's chaste at first, as Phil smacks a gentle kiss onto Dan's bottom lip, but it feels like a thousand fires blowing up around him, inside him, lighting him up from the inside and pushing him even closer to the boy in front of him. Just that first touch is enough to have him pull back a fraction, exhaling a shaky breath onto Dan's parted lips. Dan follows his mouth, however, kissing him again, and again, wet sounds echoing inside Phil's skull until he gently puts his hand on Dan's cheek, holding him away for a few moments.

"I need…"

"What do you need, Phil?" Dan says, his voice gone deep in a way that only worsens Phil's current problem.

"I need a moment to breathe, I think."

"Oh." And if it's disappointment he hears in Dan's voice, well then. That just won't do.

"Yeah, uh. Apparently it works," he says, giving Dan a slightly crooked, slightly dazed smile.

Dan just looks confused, though. "What works?" he asks, brow furrowed.

Phil points to his crotch. Dan's face lights up instantly in an incredulous cackle, and Phil immediately goes to shush him, hovering his hand over Dan's mouth as his other hand still cups his cheek, both of them devolving into delighted giggles. Phil strokes his thumb over Dan's cheek, marvelling at his smile and dipping his finger into his dimple. That earns him another giggle from Dan, who's gone red all over, it seems.

"You're not impotent, then?" he asks. "Good to know." And Phil would smack him if his hands weren't already busy holding Dan's face. And if he didn't desperately want to kiss him again.

"Can we resume practice now?"

Dan gives him a smile that's just _slightly_ smug.

"Sure."

And Phil leans back in. They kiss like that for minutes and minutes on end, chaste kisses turning slightly open-mouthed, and Phil takes turns kissing Dan's upper lip, bottom lip, the corners of his lips, everything, until Dan kisses Phil's bottom lip and starts sucking on it gently, the tip of his tongue resting on it while his lips create a slight suction. It's over in seconds, but it leaves Phil so hard in his pants that he doesn't know what to do with himself. He pulls back again, this time putting some space between him and Dan.

"We should probably stop," he says.

Dan smiles warmly, leaning in and leaving one last lingering kiss on Phil's lips.

"We should. We're not in private quarters, after all," he says, and winks. _Winks_. Phil ducks his head to hide his blush.

"You need to go back to your own room now, don't you?" Phil asks, hoping he doesn't sound as sad as he feels.

"Yeah. But I'll see you later today?"

Phil really wants to say yes. But…

"You really need to get some sleep after your shift, Dan."

Dan pouts. "Let's sleep together, then," he says, and Phil gives him half a death glare. Dan stifles his laughter. Phil takes his hand, leading them inside, closing the balcony doors behind them. He yawns.

"Fine. But keep it up and you'll sleep in the dresser."

Dan chuckles. "It'd be an honour, your majesty."

***

Dan most certainly doesn't sleep in the dresser. He sleeps next to Phil, who makes sure to tuck him in thoroughly despite Dan's cries of protest. Of course, just as Phil finishes tugging the blanket up to Dan's chin, Dan shakes it off completely, opting for a place with his whole body draped over Phil's, head resting just under Phil's chin, hand gripping his shirt and leg thrown over Phil's middle. There are several problems with that, however, the first one being that Phil had wanted to get something done while Dan was asleep, although he doesn't really mind because—number two, still a problem but for completely different reasons—from this position, he has a very clear view of a certain part of Dan. A curved, plump part of Dan. Okay, it's his bum. Phil would have never in a million years thought that bums do anything for him, and they probably wouldn't have just a day prior. But now that it's Dan, a warm, cuddly Dan pressed up against him with his leg over Phil's crotch and his bum and thighs so beautifully on display (and also remembering the way the kisses they shared made him feel), he's ready to reassess his stance.

Dan is getting comfortable on top of him and snuggling closer, and Phil feels like Dan's leg is getting closer to his dick by the second. It’s rather the other way around, though. A few moments pass and Dan starts laughing quietly.

"Shut up," is what Phil says. Dan's voice is croaky from disuse when he speaks next. He's got amusement written in his voice.

"I never said anything," he says, and it seems like that's that. That is, until Phil feels a soft hand trail lower down his body, incredibly slowly. He almost doesn’t notice it at first, too absorbed in the slow patterns of Dan's breathing to pay attention to anything else. He definitely feels it when said hand slips under his shirt, though.

Phil holds his breath, feeling like the spot where Dan is touching him literally vibrates with an anticipating kind of pleasure. He holds still, his right hand holding Dan close from around his waist. He tightens his grip on him slightly.

"What are you doing?" Phil asks. Dan doesn't say anything, he just runs his hand back and forth over the slight bump of his belly, ever so slowly trailing upwards until he reaches Phil's ribs and settles his hand over his chest. It's where his hand was before he moved it, except this time around there's nothing separating Phil's fevered skin from Dan's. Phil's breathing is laboured, chest working to get air into his lungs. Dan, however, seems content with the arrangement.

"Stop breathing so hard, you're making me dizzy."

Phil huffs out a laugh. "If I'm making you dizzy, what do you think you're making _me_?"

Silence. "Turned on, I'd hope?"

Another bout of silence.

"Yeah…" is all Phil can say. He looks at the top of Dan's head for a few moments, curls gone wild from all his shuffling around. Then Phil is met with tired eyes as Dan lifts his head to look at him, and then they're kissing. Dan leans in first, but Phil pulls him closer, so, so close by the waist, until Dan's body is crushed against his. Between kisses, Phil tries to speak.

"So-" drag, smack, "you should teach me-" Phil lets out a tiny moan as Dan sucks on his lower lip, just like earlier, tongue dipping to give it a quick lick, "Ah. Teach me how to. You know. With tongue."

Dan stays silent, capturing Phil's lips again. He hasn't been very talkative since he came into Phil's room, and he feels a bit bad because he knows it's from lack of sleep. He seems enthusiastic enough about kissing him, though, so Phil can't focus on that thought for too long. Plus, he kind of likes how loose Dan gets in this sleepy state.

"Dan…" Phil says, and it's almost a moan. Dan's hand is ghosting over his nipple, and it sends waves of pleasure through his whole body. And then Dan's tongue makes an appearance. It's not shy, by any means, Dan's never shy with anything he does, but it's brief. His tongue goes down on Phil's lower lip, plush and wet, and Phil gasps. Dan then shifts, sitting up a bit more, hand slipping out from under Phil's shirt and Phil whines. His whine gets lost, however, when Dan's hand comes to rest on his face, thumb pressing into his bottom lip, dragging it outwards to open Phil's mouth more, exposing the light pink underside of Phil’s lip. It's making Phil's head spin and his tummy swirl with a thousand frenzied butterflies. Dan holds his mouth open like that, backing up a few centimetres to look into Phil's eyes, which go wide at Dan's words.

"Meet my tongue in the middle, yeah?"

And then his mouth is on Phil's again, thumb moving to the side but palm still cupping his cheek. Phil tries to follow the motions, but he's not sure when his tongue should come into play. Dan, however, is leading perfectly and already two steps ahead. He coaxes Phil's mouth wide open with his lips, pausing for a millisecond to mutter "Now." and then their tongues are touching, curling around each other for a few seconds before Dan tilts his head the other way, and then they're sliding against one another again, and again and again.

In between each wet drag of tongues and lips moving together, Phil lets out quiet sobs and heavy breaths. He might question if it was annoying Dan if he wasn't busy trying to find some friction for his cock, which now tented his pants obscenely. Dan doesn't look like he has any plans to touch him there, however, content to simply drive Phil crazy with his mouth.  
It gets frantic pretty quickly, though, mouths wide open and tongues moving in sync with such heat that when they part, a thin line of spit connects their mouths. Dan grins, and with heated eyes fixing Phil into place, he raises his hand to twirl the spit around, guiding it to his own mouth, tongue darting out to catch it. Phil's head hits the pillow with a cutoff moan, and he gets his own hand on himself to relieve the steadily building pressure down there.

He doesn't know what to do about it further than that, but he doesn't really have to, because the moment he touches his cock through his trousers, his hips shoot off the bed instinctively to grind into his palm, and a wave of indescribable pleasure washes over him, mouth going slack as he feels his cock twitching, heat curling into his belly and his toes in a way that he's never felt before. It shakes and pulsates through his whole body, and when it's over he's lightheaded. He feels like his head is filled with bees.

When he opens his eyes, Dan is smiling so wide his cheeks must hurt. It has a cheeky tilt to it, but it looks mostly like glee, and Phil smiles back, although a bit less wide. He can't really feel his face.

"What just happened?" he asks. He has an inkling, but he's pretty sure it's not supposed to happen this spontaneously.

"You came in your pants, duh," Dan says, and although his tone is sarcastic, his face looks… awed. Phil smiles wider, despite having no idea what they're smiling about. He supposes smiling is easy after what he's just experienced, though. But then again, it might also be that smiling is easy around Dan, period.

"Is that… a thing?"

Dan cackles. He's still standing over Phil, although his face isn't as close as it was earlier. Phil notices that his hand is resting on his stomach, running his thumb in circles near his bellybutton.

"It's a thing when you're really, really into something. Or when you're inexperienced."

Phil blushes for both of those statements.

"I guess that's true," Phil says, for lack of something else. He doesn't really know what he should do now, but he shifts his hips slightly and feels a wet slide in his pants. He feels his eyes go wide, something akin to panic racing through him, and Dan must be watching him because he covers his mouth with the back of his hand and starts laughing into it, head moving to the side as if Phil can't see how amusing the whole situation is to him. Phil's tone is incredulous when he speaks next. "Does that happen all the time? I thought…" Dan starts laughing harder, dropping his head into Phil's shoulder and shaking with it. Phil pretends to be annoyed and pushes at his shoulders, urging him back up.

"Your mind, Phil. What is going on in there, I don't think I'll ever understand."

Phil huffs. "Get off me so I can get changed."

Dan rolls off, looking at Phil as he says "Yes, your highness" as seriously as he can muster before erupting into giggles again. And if Phil's cock twitches at the name, that's his business and his business only.

***

Phil comes back into the room a few minutes later, only to find Dan fast asleep on the bed, body curled into itself on the side, almost at the risk of falling off the bed. Phil's heart squeezes in his chest. He gets in next to him, covering his tall frame with the thick blanket he uses at night and lifting his head so he can slide a pillow under it. He looks at his relaxed face, the way his hair curls at the edges of it, one curl poking a bit into his eyelid. Phil brushes it away. He takes the opportunity to look, eyes roaming and taking in all the details that he never managed to get from the brief glances he allows himself when they're awake.

Dan's skin looks soft, except for one tiny mole that pokes out on his cheek the tiniest bit. Phil's hand comes up to touch it without thinking, and he retracts it as soon as he realizes. He puts space between the two of them, then, sliding under the same blanket but making sure their bodies don't touch. He looks up at the ceiling. And then the thoughts start coming. After that they never really stop.

Dan's a boy. Phil kissed a boy. Phil liked kissing a boy. Phil had his first non-accidental orgasm with a boy. Well, the non-accidental part is debatable, but still. He's not sure how to feel. He tries to connect the dots in his mind, tries to put it all together so it makes sense.

He supposes he should feel bad about it. Guilty, maybe? Dan did say people were being executed for this very thing. A pang of fear hits him square in the chest, but as far as Dan and what they did together goes, fear is the only negative emotion he can place. He doesn't regret it, because… Dan is his friend. He's just helping Phil with whatever he needs. And this is all so he can kiss his potential future queen properly, so it's okay. Phil's a prince, after all. He's sure he can get Dan out of trouble if need be. He hopes so, at least.

And after how nice kissing Dan was, Phil's got high hopes for the next girl. He smiles at the thought and tries to imagine it, but however hard he tries to use Suzy's face in his fantasy, Dan's keeps popping up. Whatever. It's not like he's got any other material to work with.

Phil turns on his side to face Dan and smiles when he sees him. His eyes go almost closed with how full he feels when he looks at him, and he has to hug himself to stop from reaching over and draping himself over the sleeping boy. He's never felt closer to another human being, he thinks.

Dan moves then, eyes staying closed, but it looks intentional when his hand lands between them, palm side up. Phil watches his face to see if there are any clues to his intent there, but for all it's worth, Dan looks dead to the world. Phil blinks once before giving in, gently lowering his hand over Dan's, fingers trailing over his wrist gently before he settles with his fingers tucked under Dan's hand, thumb circling the heel of Dan's palm. He might have imagined it but he swears Dan sighs and his mouth twitches at the corner. Phil falls asleep wishing he was also holding Dan's other hand.

***

It becomes a thing. Dan comes to his room after his shift, sometimes just after noon and sometimes late in the afternoon, and they bant and laugh together until one of them snaps and leans in for a kiss. It's usually Phil, but Dan is always eager to comply. They kiss sweet and they kiss open-mouthed and it goes downright filthy at times, faces slick with spit, but Phil never makes the mistake of touching his cock again, knowing full well that the whole thing between them isn't supposed to extend to… _that_.

And it's clear even from Phil's perspective that Dan is letting _him_ lead because he never once goes further than what Phil requests, doesn't try anything new without Phil being the one who specifically asks for it. Most days when they part, they just take some time to breathe, and Dan sometimes goes into the bathroom for a few minutes and comes back acting brand new. Phil doesn't complain, because why would he? It's definitely the most fun he's ever had with anyone, and beyond the kissing and the occasional wandering hand, his friendship with Dan hasn't changed a bit. They still have the playfulness, the 'getting on each other's nerves' thing, and it feels even easier than before in a way.

They're sitting on Phil's bed, as usual, catching their breath after a particularly intense round of "practicing" when Phil's mind offers up an interesting visual. He looks at Dan, who's sitting at the other end of the bed, one leg bent at the knee and the other spread in front of him, hands behind him holding his body up. His head is tilted back slightly and he's got his eyes closed. His chest is rising and falling somewhat steadily by now. Phil clears his throat and Dan opens his eyes to look at him.

"You've never…" Fuck, this is awkward to say out loud. "You've only kissed my mouth," he says, trying to keep his eyes open despite the overwhelming need to either close them or gouge them out.

Dan smirks. "What else do you want me to kiss, Phil?"

Phil looks away, shaking his head.

"Nothing, nevermind."

There's a stretch of silence after that.

"I can teach you how to leave love bites if you want."

Phil's head snaps up at that. "What's a love bite?" He can feel himself blushing, inferring that it sounds a bit… sexual.

Dan laughs. "It's better if I show you."

Then he crawls over to where Phil is sitting, back propped up against the headboard. Phil leans in to kiss him, but Dan ducks out of the way at the last second, giggling against his neck.

"Hey!" Phil does hear that he sounds a bit offended. "You're just gonna leave me hang—ah!" Dan has stayed put with his face in Phil's neck and gives him a fluttery kiss just over his pulse point as Phil is talking. Phil shuts up for good as Dan's lips continue trailing brief kisses up and down his throat, going as high as his jaw and as low as the dip of his collarbones.

On a particularly brave conquest that strays from his original path, he leans up and sucks Phil's earlobe into his mouth, tongue circling the loose piece of skin and having Phil exhaling shaky breaths against the side of his face. He abandons it too quickly for Phil’s liking, but then he lets his open mouth trail over the side of his neck, warm, wet breaths against Phil's skin, until he reaches the base of his throat and settles on a spot just low enough that he has to hook a finger over the neckline of his shirt and pull it down.

And then he gets working, lips catching on Phil's skin, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks and bites the spot, pausing from time to time to look at it, then licking gently to soothe the sting. It has Phil squirming and writhing under him, hands holding onto Dan's waist tightly, hips rolling in a barely noticeable motion that he honestly can't control. He lets out one last gasp as Dan finishes, biting one more time for good measure, teeth sinking into raw skin. And then Dan pulls away, eyes glued to the spot his mouth had just been on, pupils wide, wide, wide.

Phil bites his lip as he glances down, shirt having partially bounced back in place, and he has to tug it away again to see the full extent of what Dan's left him with. His throat goes dry as he sees the mark. It's big, first of all. He touches it with two fingers and they don't cover it completely. As his fingers make contact with the skin he notices it's burning, and touching it sends spikes of pain into the surrounding area and arousal through the rest of his body. Most of all, what stands out is the deep reddish-purple colour of the mark. It looks like it's almost about to bleed in the middle, and Phil scratches over the spot curiously, only to have his eyes roll into the back of his head at the sharp ping of pain it produces.

"That is… definitely," he doesn't know what to say, how to articulate how good that is for him. So he doesn't, instead pulling Dan into a kiss, using his tongue from the very start. Dan pulls away after a few minutes, however, and this time he gets off the bed completely. Phil can see the tent in his trousers but doesn't say anything as Dan excuses himself to the bathroom.

He readjusts himself so he's sitting in the middle of the bed, then plops the rest of his body down unceremoniously, hair falling into his eyes from the impact. He closes his eyes and imagines the village, the people and the traditions and the games, all the while shots of Dan kissing him, Dan laughing, Dan dancing to his own voice play in his mind. He's half in love with the idea of evading the castle for a day and dressing up in Dan's clothes, running away for a few hours just to see what the outside looks like without guards blocking his view or from the inside of a chariot. He wants to see it when people aren't crowding against him, screaming at him things that he doesn't understand, and he wants to do it all with Dan by his side.

Spring is fully here, he thinks. It's almost April and the trees outside have started budding, grass going from dull yellow and grey to pale green, slowly transitioning into something beautiful and alive. He and Dan have been pretty consistently going on walks until they first started kissing, but since then they've spent whole days cozied up inside, kissing from time to time, yes, but mostly sitting in each other's company, Dan stealing Phil's books and reading them while hanging with his head over the side of the bed, or just talking, poking fun at this or that. It's the easy back-and-forth that has Phil so comfortable in Dan's presence, soothed by the sound of his breathing, the confirmation that he's alive and next to him. He hears the door to the bathroom creak and blinks his eyes open, a smiling Dan coming fully into view.

"Hello, princess." is how Dan chooses to greet him, and Phil grins back.

"Hello, my little field-dwelling goblin."

They make faces at each other for a full minute before Dan drops face down on the bed, hands at his sides and legs hanging off the side. He's stretched at an angle at Phil's feet, perpendicular to where he's sitting. Phil pokes him with his socked foot, digging into his upper arm.

"Ow." comes a voice.

"Sorry, what was that?" Phil asks, continuing to push his toes against Dan, going as far as bonking his head with them. Dan's hand whooshes through the air to catch his ankle, holding it almost a foot away from his face with his outstretched hand.

"Not funny. I'm hungry."

Phil snorts. "Then go eat."

"Bring me food."

Phil scowls at the back of Dan's head for a few seconds before shrugging to himself and getting off, going for the door.

"What are you doing?" Dan asks.

"Bringing your lazy ass food, or were you not starving a moment ago?"

Dan lifts his head to look at him funny, then drops it back down.

"Fine, servant, but you must also bring something to drink and some napkins. And you better not take long, because I'll have your head!" The last part is shouted dramatically, and Phil rolls his eyes as the door already closes behind him. He plates a few cookies and a bit of bread and cheese and takes a carafe of water with him into his room. It takes a while to get it all settled in his arms so he doesn't drop everything and make a mess, but then he's off to his room. He manages to get the door open with his elbow, although he very nearly dies of a heart attack when the cookies slide slightly against the plate. He sighs when he manages to right himself and he has miraculously not spilled anything.

Back in his room, Dan is no longer on the bed, instead examining his dresser. Phil carefully puts everything down, plates going on the bed and water on the nightstand, and goes to stand behind Dan.

"See anything you like?" Phil asks, and it's impossible Dan hasn't heard him coming in but he jumps nonetheless.

"I'm sorry for snooping. I was bored," he says. Phil clucks his tongue.

"Naughty boy."

Dan goes to close the door to the dresser, muttering 'sorry', but Phil stops him.

"It's fine, I'm teasing you, Dan. I actually want to know which ones you like most."

Dan hums, opening the door wide again, the other one propped against the wall. Inside Phil's dresser, there's only part of his clothes, the most interesting or costly ones either in the gallery or in one of the locked towers. Clothes are a pretty important expense, after all. But he's still got some pretty things hung up inside his dresser, available for Dan's viewing pleasure. He instinctively places his hands on Dan's hips as the boy peruses what's in front of him, but he doesn't press their bodies together.

Dan hums again and his hands stop on a black, embroidered coat. He gasps as he tugs it away from the rest and slightly more into the open, but he doesn't take it out from its place. He runs his hands over the collar and down the margin of it until he reaches the lapel, and Phil feels, rather than sees him holding his breath.

"What is this?" he asks. Phil smiles, coming to stand next to him and caress the gorgeous stitching as well.

"It's a gift from my parents. I got it two years ago and it's the only expensive piece they've allowed me to keep here. Probably because I wear it so often it's too much of a hassle to climb it into the tower and back every time." He hears the wistful tilt of his voice but doesn’t bother to correct it.

Dan nods, and Phil sees the way his eyes have glazed over as he quietly inspects every inch of it. It's truly gorgeous, Phil knows. From the back, it looks completely black, but the front. The front can impress even the most stoic of people. Phil smirks to himself remembering how everyone went slack-jawed when they saw it for the first time. It's got a complementary jacket that goes underneath, and together they make it look like a field of flowers sprouted on Phil's chest. Or a forest in autumn. It's a mesmerising combination. Golden leaves are interspersed with thin bouquets of wildflowers and the buttons have sunflowers sewn on. It's visually pleasing, yes, but it's also a beautiful tactile experience. Because above all the flowers, big, fluffy embroidered dandelions steal the scene, pure white contrasting with the black of the coat. Phil's favourite thing about it, however, is that if you look closely, tiny yellow birds are perched in between the flowers, filling the empty spaces. He thinks Dan sees the same things as him. He looks at a loss for words for longer than Phil ever was, though.

Phil carefully touches Dan's hand where it's holding the garment, fingers curling around his wrist gently. It catches Dan's attention, who lets go of it and turns to Phil, brows slightly furrowed. When Phil speaks next, it's very controlled, his voice low and his throat dry.

"Do you want to try it on?" Their bodies are very close to one another, and the question feels weirdly intimate. Dan croaks out a tiny "Yes." and steps back.

Soft hands reach inside the dresser to pull the coat out, and Phil holds it to his chest with one hand while he searches for the jacket with the other. When he's holding both, he turns to Dan, who he now realises looks scared shitless. He rests the clothes on the bed and then goes to hug him, hands wrapping around Dan's neck, holding on for a long second. "Relax," he says. "I don't know what you're scared of, but this is completely fine."

"What if I break them?"

"They're not that fragile, Dan. Plus, they're worn in. I told you, I go out in these all the time." He attempts a smile, and he thinks he manages it because Dan visibly relaxes.

"Okay," he says, and after a few seconds, there's pure excitement on his face. "Dress me up, then." And he's back to cheeky. Phil loves it, smiling in relief.

He takes the jacket in his hands first, unbuttoning it and holding it open to a waiting Dan. "Turn around, then," he says, and Dan complies. Phil then slips it over his shoulders and fiddles with the collar, straightening it from where it was folded over. He then spins Dan around by the shoulders and comes closer to him, buttoning it back up a bit slower than necessary, feeling Dan's gaze burning his face. He buttons it up to about two thirds and stops to look at it, feeling like something is missing.

"What?" Dan asks after a few seconds of stillness.

"Nothing," Phil says. He plays with the hem of Dan's white blouse, peeking from underneath the jacket close to his neckline. Then he remembers. "This is supposed to go with one of those ruffled shirts. Those with the flowery attachments at the front."

Dan snorts. "That's what you're so hung up on? I'm sure the coat is the star if the outfit, Phil."

Phil hums. "It is. It's just a minor detail, don't worry." He proceeds to button it up completely, unlike what he would do if the frills were there, and he admires the way it makes Dan's neck look so much longer.

"It's digging into my chin," comes a complaint. Phil rolls his eyes.

"Well, it wouldn't dig into your chin if you were wearing the appropriate shirt underneath, now shush," Phil says, and Dan glares at him for half a second before his gaze drops to Phil's hands. Hands, which are still on the last button, grazing the underside of Dan's jaw.

"Get to it, then," Dan says, and Phil snaps out of it, going to pick up the coat from the bed. Soon enough, Dan's attire is complete, and he twirls around excitedly, looking down at himself. Phil smiles a private smile, tucks the image of Dan dressed in his clothes in the folds of his mind, lets the image of his smile pour over him like honey syrup over pancakes in the sun, golden reflects of his happiness shining over every memory.

"Do you like it?" Phil asks.

Dan looks at him like he's an idiot for a brief second, then the sarcastic look drops off his face and he almost skips his way to where Phil is standing, engulfing him in a very tight embrace.

"I love it," he whispers near his ear. Then he licks a wet stripe up Phil's neck and Phil screams in mock disgust, pushing him away. Dan laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"You need to see yourself in the mirror," he says. Dan nods.

Standing in front of the mirror, Dan looks like he's seen a ghost. Or God. Or some combination of the two. Either way, standing behind him, Phil sees things. He sees a tall boy that's tiny on the inside, wearing his body like a too-big shirt passed down for generations. He sees the way said boy slouches like he wants the outside to match the inside, making himself smaller for the sake of his own comfort. Phil nudges his back softly and Dan straightens on instinct. Phil makes eye contact with him in the mirror.

"Keep your back straight. You're gonna resemble one of those old, crooked trees by the time you're twenty."

It should be weird, the way Dan smiles at him in the reflection. It's pained and joyful at the same time, and it hurts and heals parts of Phil in equal amounts.

"Yeah…" is all Dan says as he goes back to looking at himself, twirling and spinning and trying every angle. A few minutes pass and Phil goes to sit on the bed, with the full intention of keeping his eyes on Dan. It seems like his intentions don’t match up with Dan’s, though, because the second Phil turns around, Dan is already behind him, and it only takes a few seconds before Phil is tackled on the bed face down, pinned to it by Dan's weight. Dan is giggling like mad, although Phil can't really breathe so he settles for smiling into the sheets.

Dan leans over him until his chin is hooked over Phil's shoulder, mouth grazing his ear. He's still giggling as he asks "Do you think I'm hot like this, Philly?"

Phil chokes on his saliva and tries not to sputter too obviously as he attempts to regain his breathing. Dan has devolved into actual cackles right by his ear. Phil wiggles around, trying to find some footing to push him off. "I'm actually going to go deaf if you don't stop that evil laugh, _Daniel_."

Dan rolls off him, and Phil turns his head in time to see him wipe at his eyes in glee. "Sorry, you're just so easy to tease," he says, cheeks a bright pink. Phil huffs.

"To answer your question, I do think you look good in that."

Dan wiggles his eyebrows and Phil throws his head back with a groan, signalling defeat.

"If only you were wearing the shirt with the frills…" he continues, trying to change the subject. It works. Dan looks at him deadpan.

"I will never, ever, _ever_ wear frills. Just so we're clear."

"Why not?" Phil asks, feeling a bit offended.

"Because they look so damn pretentious. Either that or it looks like you stuffed a napkin down the neck of your tee."

Phil gapes. "And a whole outfit with a jacket and a coat and all _isn't_ pretentious?"

Dan smiles innocently. "Nope," he says, smoothing down his clothes like he hadn't just rolled around in them like a five-year-old.

Dan keeps the clothes on for about an hour, acting out all his dramatic shenanigans and generally annoying Phil, and then he starts complaining that it's way too hot to be wearing a coat and that's that. Phil watches him take them off and stays on the bed as he lets Dan do all the work of putting them back in the dresser. Dan goes silent as he touches the fabric one last time, and then he's back next to Phil, picking up a book and kicking Phil's legs out of the way so he can sit across the bed.

It's all comfortable silence and late afternoon light streaming in through the windows, sky not overcast with clouds for once. They take a small break to watch the sunset from Phil's window and get an amazing shot of the sun going down behind the hills. Phil holds Dan's waist and Dan rests his head on Phil's shoulder and life is good. Life is really good.

***

Phil isn't entirely hopeful for today. He ties a knot on his right boot and switches his leg over to tie the other one. Dan left just a few minutes ago, but the room already feels empty. He'd stayed the night because Phil almost begged him to, anxiety spiking near the time Dan would usually leave. Dan had cuddled him the whole night, body heat helping with the unnaturally cold night and the cold settling itself around Phil's heart.

Today, though, Phil is indifferent. No matter how hard he tries he can't get himself to feel much of anything. So he does what he knows he has to do, eyes glazed over from the moment Dan hugged him goodbye.

Maven. Black hair, green eyes perpetually narrowed at him. She is noticeably less friendly than Suzy. He learns throughout the course of the night that her father is a French nobleman, her mother the daughter of the late prince of Yorkshire. They barely exchange a word. Under normal circumstances Phil would be intimidated, would maybe try to make a good impression. But today there's a different storm brewing, so he narrows his eyes back and they glare at each other over the plate of mashed potatoes on the table. He thinks he might be more open if Dan was there, but even the thought of him makes his chest ache. And then he's angry that they force him to leave Dan's company to spend the day with _this_ girl, and he stays glaring straight ahead. He feels something nudge his leg. He snaps his eyes in the direction it came from and is met with his father's empty stare.

"Lady Donella asked you about your hobbies, Philip."

Phil nods and apologises. "Pardon me, I'm feeling a bit unwell, your grace."

"Oh, dear," she says, face completely emotionless. "Are you alright?"

Phil swallows down rocks. He nods and gives her a tight-lipped smile, feeling the collar of his shirt seemingly get tighter. He slips a finger underneath it and tries to loosen it, but it only seems to make it worse when he lets go. He grimaces.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit distraught is all. My hobbies are reading and horseback riding," he says. Phil thinks he could not possibly feel more suffocated by the situation and the _fucking collar_. Stilted conversation and empty eyes surround him everywhere he looks. He feels on the verge of throwing up. How did he survive this seventeen years? It feels impossible to even imagine it. Dan had just made everything come alive inside him in a way nothing else has, and going back to _this_ … he has to make a conscious effort not to curl his lip in distaste. He feels bile crawl up to the back of his throat.

"Horseback riding, is that right?" Phil is not surprised that she ignored that he likes reading. "Maven is afraid of horses."

What do you even say to that?

"I'm… sorry?" it comes out as a question. No one says anything. Lady Donella clicks her tongue.

"Right," she says. "Let's leave these two alone for a while, shall we?"

They all silently get up and Phil circles the table to stand next to Maven, who starts towards the double doors silently.

Once outside, they're almost instantly bitten raw by the wind.

"Do you have a room we can go to?" she asks. Phil blanks. The sudden, irrational fear that _she'll know_ if they go to his room is overpowering.

"No."

They stare at each other.

"You don't have a room…?" she asks, and for the first time that night, the anger in her eyes seems so subdue and give place to something else. She looks tired.

"I…"

Maven looks exasperated again. There goes her brief moment of humanity. Her skirts are billowing around them in the wind and her cheeks are red. One of the nearby trees snaps high in the air, moving violently in the powerful gusts. "Philip."

"Phil," he corrects automatically.

She smiles sweetly, but Phil has the distinct impression that it's far from genuine.

"Phil," it's a venomous sweetness. "Get us inside _now_."

"I can't," he says. His throat feels like it's gripped by a vice.

"And why not?"

There's no way out of this. He stands frozen to the spot. Maven's hair is whipping across her face and she angrily pushes it behind her ears. They're staring at each other, Phil wide-eyed and desperately afraid, Maven with increasingly furrowed brows. And then she grips his waist and kisses him. It's sudden and gone in an instant, and for a second Phil wonders what is with girls and kissing him without asking. She fixes his collar, but it's not tender. She stays pressed close, hands holding his hips. She leans in close to his ear and speaks.

"I could not care less if you're hiding a lover in your closet, _Phil_. I want to stop freezing to death." She says his name mockingly, stepping away, brows still drawn together, the barest hint of a smile tugging the corners of her lips.

Phil shakes his head dumbly and wordlessly leads her inside. Dan isn't in his room, of course.

"No lover?" Maven smirks. "Too bad. Would have at least made you interesting."

Phil bites his tongue.

"Just stay put and don't touch anything."

Maven rolls her eyes. "Or what? You'll tell your _daddy_? You'll scream for the guards if I snoop around the room a bit?" She prances from corner to corner, and she just acts _custom made_ to annoy Phil, doesn't she.

Phil laughs something bitter. "If you don't stop, I'll tell my _daddy_ that I positively _loved_ meeting you and that I would love to see you again. And remember, he's the king. Your parents would bring you here again if it means pleasing him."

To be fair, Phil feels wretched using his power against her, even if she's been a right bitch. He wouldn't actually drag her here again, but if saying he will makes her shut up, then he supposes it's not that bad. But Maven doesn’t look as disgusted with the idea of meeting him again as he'd hoped.

She scoffs. She stops in the middle of the room. "You're stupid if you think my parents will kiss the king's ass. They've been friends for longer than you've been alive."

Phil can feel his put-on smile shake. "They might have been friends for longer, but I'm more valuable." He's not sure that's true in his father's eyes, but then again, she doesn't know anything. He's not even sure what he's protecting from her. It's not like he's got a journal detailing his every move. And by now he's certain Dan isn't hiding under the bed, so.

"Are you, now? Because I've heard things…"

Maven is playing dirty, that's certain. He shouldn't listen to her, especially with the evil smile she's sporting. But he's weak. So he goes for unaffected, but he still asks.

"What have you heard?" Maven's smile gets impossibly wider. She steps closer.

"Things. Whispers. Gossip."

"Right. And who told you this gossip?"

"The king himself, of course."

Phil falters for a brief moment. But… no. "As if the king would speak to you."

"He does speak to me, Phil." She grins. "Tonight wasn’t our first time meeting, you know?"

She can't have. Phil knows every visitor, one-timer or regular. And his father hasn't left the castle in years.

"We don't air our dirty laundry like that," he opts to say.

Maven full-on cackles. She steps closer again.

"So you admit to having dirty laundry, eh?" She's now almost whispering into Phil's ear. They're pressed together, again, but this time it feels threatening. She steps back. "You're too easy."

Phil is confused. She's dropped the smirk and her smile is bordering sad, although it's still cutting in a way. It almost feels like pity. When she speaks next, it sends shivers down Phil's spine.

"I don't know the king. But you'd know that if you were close, wouldn't you? Or at least you'd know enough to trust him. God, you're easy." She steps back again, shaking her head. "If you actually spoke with your father, he'd have told you that he knows me, he'd have told you what kind of person I am, he'd have prepared you. But you don't trust him to do that, do you? You don't trust him to tell you what he knows."

Phil steps back like he's been staggered. He almost falls on his ass trying to get away from the words, has to hold the wall for support. He never had to worry about her finding any physical evidence, apparently. Five minutes of talking and his trauma is all in the air in front of them. All she had to do was taunt his insecurities, and she knew how to prod in the exact perfect way. He thinks he might be sick.

"Why would you lie?" The sentence breaks in half in time with his voice.

Maven sits down on the bed, dress puffing up around her in a way that sends a flash of annoyance to her face. "Easy. I need to know if I can trust you." She tries to smooth down the dress, patting it down around her so it doesn't block her face. The crinoline underneath seems to be doing its job, however, and the dress springs back up around her. It sends something akin to rage on her face, and Phil can only watch as she lands a blow to the dress that makes something crack, presumably the crinoline. And then the dress lays flat. Well, not flat. It looks borderline ridiculous, crumpled and sad, but sticking out at her sides.

Phil shrinks back even further, but after Maven's done with the dress, she looks up with a controlled smile on her face, meeting Phil's eyes openly for the first time that night. But Phil won't have that. She doesn't get to play him like that. He tries to control his breathing, but his hands are shaking and he feels violence threaten to spill over. "Why the _fuck_ would you do that? Why do you think I need your trust?"

Maven tuts. "Tsk, Phil. I'm not offering you my trust. I am offering you a secret in exchange for another. If you'll have it. I need you to be vulnerable first if I am to tell you what I want to tell you."

"What…" This doesn't make any fucking sense. "How does knowing about my relationship with my father translate into you trusting me with a secret?"

Maven looks at him straight on.

"Because it means you have a secret of your own. Something that you're not telling him."

"It doesn't mean that. What?"

Maven rolls her eyes, but something shifts in her eyes. She almost talks to herself when she speaks next. "Maybe I'd go as far as thinking you have a secret you're not telling yourself."

It's silent after that. Phil doesn't know what to say. He doesn't have to think for too long about it, though, as the worst possible thing happens. Dan opens the door, face relaxed and clueless, and doesn’t even look up from the tray of sweets in his hand as he carefully closes it behind him.

Phil can't control the shock on his face. It's all coming undone around him, and he can only stare in horror as Dan fixes a piece of homemade chocolate on the plate, one that was about to fall off, and greets him cheerfully. He must have seen him from his periphery, and from where Phil is standing he's probably blocking his view of Maven.

"Phil! You need to try these, I have a new recipe." Phil would smile at his excitement if he wasn't busy looking back at Maven, who is now back to her smirking old self, leaning back on her hands on the bed. Dan doesn't make it too far into the room before he spots her and freezes. Maven chooses that moment to talk.

"Who's this, then?" she asks, and she sounds borderline smug. Phil does the math in his head and figures that nothing incriminating has happened yet, except for Dan being _maybe_ a bit too casual with Phil. It's fine. It doesn't have to end badly.

"This is Dan. He works in the kitchens. He's a very skilled patissier." He prays to God he sounds convincing.

Maven isn't impressed. She hums. "Mm… And which of those qualifications makes him think he can address you by your first name?"

Phil narrows his eyes. "The human qualification, maybe? I'm friendly with my staff. I don't know what you're insinuating."

"Nothing, nothing, God. Relax."

Dan unfreezes and starts speaking, but not before bowing his head. "My apologies, your grace. I wasn't aware I was intruding. I'll just leave these and go?" It comes out as a question and Dan looks at Phil for guidance. Permission, Phil realizes. He's asking for permission.

"Yes, please," he says.

"No, stay. I should meet the staff if I'm here, after all. And your staff _must_ be simply amazing if you allow them such liberties, so I can't pass up an opportunity like this." Phil can feel his skin crawl.

"He's probably too busy to entertain us, Maven." It's the first time he says her name out loud. He'd hoped it would calm her but it just makes her look angrier.

She lets out a dry "Ha!" before talking again. "Let me make myself perfectly clear, Phil. I know that whatever this is, you don't want it to get out. One conversation with your father tonight was enough for me to know that he wouldn't be happy with a _friendship_ between his son and a servant. So you better make time to entertain me…" she trails off, turning to face the other boy.

"Dan," Dan answers. He's pale as newly washed linen.

"Dan. Pretty name. Give me some of that chocolate, please."

He obeys. Phil's dread levels have reached peak. He doesn't think it can get much worse. "What is your deal?" He asks Maven.

Maven scoffs while chewing the soft piece of dark chocolate from the tray. "I like to have fun."

"That's it? You're trying to blackmail me _for fun_?"

"I hardly have anything to blackmail you with." She looks between the two of them again. "Or do I?"

They all stay silent, Phil and Dan standing up while Maven surveys them and the room. Then she sighs and starts speaking again. "Unfortunately for me, this isn't entirely for fun. It would have been, if you weren't the damn perfect fit, but right now I've decided that I need your help."

"My help." Phil deadpans.

"Yes. You see, we both need to enter a marriage. And whatever the circumstances and the person, it looks like the both of us would be miserable in one."

"I'd be miserable with you, yes."

Maven looks between the two of them again, and Phil feels the entire room turn on its head. He doesn't like her look.

"You'd be miserable with anyone but him, I gather," she says, chin tilting up towards Dan. Phil isn't breathing.

"What?" he gets out, breathy and endlessly incriminating. He clears his throat, trying to make his voice work again. "I don't know why you think _whatever_ it is that you're thinking," he spits out the word 'whatever', "But you're wrong."

She sighs. "Come on, now, Phil. You must think I'm some evil genius for figuring you out, but you must not realize just how transparent you are. You think I didn't see your face when I mentioned the word _lover_ earlier?" It's mocking, the way she says it, high pitched and cruel. "Why do you think I even said that? The wind whipped your collar away and I saw the giant bruise on your neck."

Phil actually gasps. He crumples to the floor then, back to the wall, going to hold his hands around himself. This is it. He's fucked. And he's mostly fucked because of his own reaction, the way he couldn't control his body giving in. Because two seconds of thinking tell him that he could have denied it, he could have said _anything_ and she didn't have evidence anyway.

Maven doesn't seem to get the message that _she's won_ , apparently, because she keeps going. "And then this boy comes in here all familiar and bubbly, servant clothes and brown eyes, and it all makes sense, it all truly does make sense-"

"Stop," Dan says. Phil can barely distinguish his voice from the ringing in his ears. Dan comes to rest his hand on his shoulder and Phil startles violently. Dan doesn't move his hand, however. "He doesn't know." Dan goes on to say, and it makes Phil's stomach churn ever more violently, because… _he doesn't know?_

 _I know_ , he wants to scream. _I know, I've always known, I'VE ALWAYS KNOWN_. The realization pounds inside his head like parade drums, loud, loud, loud. It was always there, but now it materializes into something he can name. It screams inside him like it wants to be let out. _I've always known I like boys. It didn't even start with you._

He's too choked up to say it. He lets them talk between themselves, while things build and crumble around him simultaneously.

"He doesn't know? What doesn't he know?"

"Leave him alone."

"What doesn't he know? Does he not know you sucked a bruise on his neck? Is he stupid? Did you do it in his sleep?"

Dan's hand tightens on his shoulder and it almost hurts.

"I said stop." Is all Dan says, and Phil thinks he doesn't want to say it because he thinks it's a secret. He must think _Yes, Phil is stupid. Don't burst his precious little bubble_. Phil starts crying silently, but he tries to stay still, hides his head in his arms. He self consciously thinks that if his shoulders don't shake, Dan won't know. Maven won't know. No one will know.

Maven laughs. "Whatever," she says. "While you two are having an existential crisis, maybe you've forgotten that I have something to tell you as well. You might feel better if you listen."

"I think we've heard enough," Dan says. Maven tuts again, tilting her head patronizingly.

"Don't get too brave, servant boy. You don't want me to leave here without evening the playground. You must be aware that I know too much to let me just walk away." Dan's hand gets impossibly tighter on his shoulder and Phil whimpers. Dan then crouches down next to him and tries to make him look up, but Phil refuses to. He doesn't want to be seen by another human being in this state. He doesn't want Dan to think he's weak. Dan sits down next to him, sharing his body warmth. It would calm Phil down if it didn’t make him choke with fear.

"Talk, then," Dan says, voice glacial.

"Alright," Maven doesn't seem phased. "But just so you know, you're overreacting."

Phil thinks Dan must glare at her for a few seconds because there's tense silence for a few seconds before Maven clears her throat. It sounds forced when she speaks. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. That wasn't my intention," she says. Dan snaps at her.

"It damn well was your intention. You said you wanted _fun_. You enjoy hurting people."

Maven sighs. "I don't. Or at least, I don't enjoy hurting you. I just needed leverage."

"That's fucking twisted."

Silence.

"I do it to protect myself."

Silence.

"Look, Phil." He can hear her shifting on the bed. "I'd appreciate it if you'd look at me when I talk."

"Why do _you_ get to make demands? He's the prince."

"We _have_ established that I found that leverage, right? I can ask for anything. But fine. The whole plan was to get something out of you so that you couldn't use what I tell you against me if you refuse my offer. That offer was marriage. Mostly to cover for me, but now it would be for both of us."

Phil lifts his head to look at her. He furrows his brows, and Dan must see that he's been crying because he coos and wipes under his eyes. Phil keeps said eyes on Maven.

"Why on earth would I marry you?"

"Because if you marry me, you won't have to actually have a relationship with me. You can be with Dan."

Phil can't think. Can't wrap his head around what's happening. He's never discussed anything of the sort with Dan. It feels foreign and scary to hear her say it like that. Dan must feel something as well because he shifts by his side.

"With Dan?" is all he can say. The uncertainty in his voice is real, but it doesn’t really convey how he feels. Dan puts a bit of distance between them, moving to the left against the wall until their bodies aren't touching anymore. It sends something cold through Phil and he turns to look at him, to see him looking in the opposite direction, jaw obviously clenched. He wants to get closer, but he feels rooted to the spot.

"Yes?" Maven says, oblivious to the silent conflict panning out in front of her. "Do you really want to marry a woman? Because you'll have to either way, and I'm probably the only one who'll let you do whatever you want with whoever you want."

Phil turns to look at her. "But why?" he asks.

"Why. Funny question. Have you really not figured it out yet?” Pause. “I'm in the same situation."

They all kind of stare at each other then. The words don't really sink in for Phil. "You're… in a relationship," the word 'relationship' has to be pulled like a nail from Phil's mouth, "With a servant?"

Maven groans and leans back on the bed. "With a woman, you idiot. With a fucking woman."

"It was a bit obvious, Phil. After she said it, I mean." Dan says, and he looks like he might cry or burst into laughter equally.

Phil exhales. And exhales again. He wipes at his eyes.

"You really think I'll take you up on that offer after all the threats you made tonight? After you lied, manipulated me, waited _this long_ to tell me the truth, if it even is the truth, and you only did it after I literally couldn't stand straight anymore."

Maven sits up again. She hums. "Consider this: you don't really have a choice."

"That's not true," Dan says vehemently. "You have a choice. You don't have to do this, Phil. I can't stress enough that you shouldn't marry your blackmailer."

"I did not blackmail you. I saved my own skin. If you think this could have been done any differently, you're wrong."

"You could have used empathy," Dan says.

"Empathy gets you killed. You think I can show empathy to just anyone? Maybe I'd survive, but my girlfriend surely would not. And you're in the same fucking boat, you should know."

"You're cruel."

"I survive. And I didn’t even do anything that bad. I just made sure it was safe for me to talk before running my mouth. You're both kind, yes, so kind that you're weak, but you're an exception. I knew from the second I saw you that you'd be someone to confide to. But I couldn't take any chances. This wasn't something I could gamble on."

"If I say I'll think about it, will you leave? Will you leave me, us, alone?" Phil asks.

"If you say you'll think about it, I'll leave, yes. But it's not that easy. I need to tell your father, and my mother, how this supposed meeting went. And there's no in-between answer. You'll either meet me again or you never will. And that last one isn't a great option for either of us."

Phil looks at Maven. Then his eyes leave her and land on Dan. There's something weird in his eyes, face guarded like it never was before, but something borderline hopeful crosses his expression. He looks back at her, mind already made up.

"Then I'll think about it. And you can tell everyone it went well. This isn't a promise to go along with your insane plan, however. Just a promise that I'll consider all sides of it."

Maven nods. Then she sits up, dress wonky and broken around her legs. She looks happy with herself, and most importantly, infinitely less threatening than she did just a few minutes ago.

"I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship, Philip."

Phil hums. "Wouldn't bet on it."

Then she's gone. And. This isn't ideal. Because Phil has no idea what his ideal is. But it's pretty damn close to something good. He would've liked it if Maven was less of a storm, maybe a bit friendlier and less rude (more trustworthy crosses his mind), but after he lets it all settle in his mind, it all connects like an intricately spun spider web. He almost smiles.

Dan is unmoving next to him, watching him with slightly more open eyes. It takes a second for Phil to process the Dan part of the puzzle, but when he does, it clicks. They're still close enough to each other that Phil can lean in and press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet. He holds Dan's face like it's the only thing anchoring them together, and maybe it is. Phil wouldn't be able to tell anyone a single thing at that moment aside from how much he wants Dan in every crevice of his skin, between his teeth and in his arms for as long as they're both breathing. They part for only a second so Phil can speak.

"You know you keep me safe, right?"

Dan takes his turn kissing him, deepening the kiss, and this time is different from any of the other times. This time around Dan takes his time kissing him, does it with precision and delicacy, but he doesn't go easy. He opens and opens his mouth until they're breathing each other in and swallowing each other up like they need it to stay alive. Phil moans into the kiss, but he pulls away.

"Can you sleep next to me tonight?"

Dan nods. "Don't ask. I'll do anything." He leans in to nibble Phil's bottom lip between his teeth. Phil pulls away again.

"Anything that _you_ also want, right?"

Dan looks at him in a way that burns holes through Phil, holding his hips in his hands and tying them together with a single gaze.

" _Anything_."

And when he leans in to kiss him again, Phil lets him. They need to talk. But for now, Phil lets Dan's promise of _anything_ envelop him, lets his kisses melt into him, lets the worry go. They'll manage anything, they'll have anything.

They'll have everything, Phil realizes. He laughs into the kiss. They can have everything.

***

The next morning brings happiness. Phil wakes up with Dan halfway on top of him, leg thrown over his and hand hugging his waist. He kisses the top of his head and stares at the ceiling, stripes of cold morning light painting it white and blue. It's still very early, but Phil is already wide awake, eyes darting around the room, but body unmoving, lest he wakes Dan. And Dan… He's breathing evenly on top of him, snuffling from time to time, clicking his tongue or lips like a kitten. Phil can't stop a breathy laugh from escaping, and it shakes his frame slightly as he pulls Dan even closer to him. It's incredible, having quiet laughter in the morning and Dan's body over his keeping him warm.

It's just a bit… confusing. Because as much as he turns the idea over in his head, he can't imagine actually marrying Maven. Can't imagine going through with having a _child_ with her.

He stares out the window, mind a mess. He runs a play-by-play of the past few months in his head. One image stands out in particular, and it's that image that lulls him back to sleep.

Smoke is swirling upwards lazily in the village right as he closes his eyes, bakery open for the day.

***

"Listen-"

"No."

"Dan,"

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

Dan swirls his head around to look at him.

"We are _not_ having this conversation."

They _had_ been taking a relaxed stroll through the gardens until Phil decided to bring an _apparently_ sensitive subject up and Dan quickened his pace to an almost jog away from Phil. Phil isn't having it.

"Will you _listen to me_."

Dan stops abruptly.

"Speak. And do it quickly before I slap you."

Phil rolls his eyes. "You're being difficult. All I want is to run away forever and never come back, effectively ending the current royal line and leaving Britain without a king, it's not that bad." Phil says, nonchalantly and without stopping for breath.

Dan's looking at him with wide eyes, a vein very prominent on his forehead, popping in time with his pulse.

"Do you hear yourself? _You have the opportunity of a lifetime in front of you,_ " he says, enunciating every word like Phil is stupid. "You can _literally_ have the best of both worlds, wife and kids and reputation and money and _safety_ , safety for fuck's sake, and you want to throw it away for a life on the run?"

Phil opens his mouth to speak, but Dan isn't finished.

"No, Phil. I think you forget why you're marrying Maven in the first place."

"I'm not marrying her."

"Yes, you are. You're marrying her because there's a _war_ on the horizon. It's creeping closer every day, and you what? You want to run away to some village where an entire army can storm us and torch everything, for _peace_ _of mind_?"

"I can't fucking stand this place anymore, Dan!" he says, almost screaming the words. "I've had enough of servants and castles and empty relationships with people that don't give a shit about me. I want what _you_ have. What you had when you were younger. I want to play in fields and braid flower crowns and-" a violent sob rips out of him, hands flailing at his sides. "And I want to be _free_."

Dan comes to stand in front of him, pressing himself against Phil and taking his head in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. "You can play in fields with me, in the fields behind the castle gardens," he says, and Phil shakes his head. "You can braid flower crowns with me, I'll teach you how. And Phil, you need to understand this. You're in a situation where you're quite possibly the free-est prince there's ever been. You have a golden ticket in your hands to live your life however you see fit. You won't be free if hostile forces find out that you're a prince living in a barn somewhere and they take you in to hold you for ransom."

Phil's eyes are shut tight, and he realizes that he's shaking. "I don't want this, I don’t." He shakes in Dan's arms, and they're breathing the same air, the same wet exhale passing between them over and over again. "I don't want the reputation and the money, and I can have kids with anyone."

Dan laughs, but it's not happy. "You can have kids with anyone? Phil. Who on earth is going to let you take care of their child, hell, _give you their child_ , just like that? Or are you suddenly attracted to women?"

It stings. It's harsh and uncalled for, because Phil hasn’t admitted to not liking girls, doesn't know if that's true across the board. But it wouldn't twist Phil's stomach the way it does if it wasn't true, he supposes.

"Fuck, Dan. You're talking about kids, and marriage and _war_ , but I think you forget that we haven't even discussed what's happening. Maven said we're in a relationship, but are we?" Phil pulls back to look into Dan's eyes. "This was all supposed to be about you teaching me how to enjoy kissing _women_ , it wasn't meant to be permanent." Phil sees a flash of hurt cross Dan's face. That's not what he intended, so he goes on. "I knew from the beginning that I liked kissing you, that I liked _you_ , but I'm _scared_. I've been thrown to the wolves here, no time to make decisions or reflect upon what's happening, just snap, snap, snap, everything just _happens_ , without my permission or my input, and then I'm married off and already having an… an _affair_ with a boy, and… and." He stops to breathe. "It's just. Hard." And then he starts crying in earnest, sobs wracking his body between words. "I need some more _time_ , I need to breathe and think, and I _can't_ , I can’t do that. You can't fucking blame me for wanting to run away. I'm not in control of any of this."

Dan takes him in his arms and holds him as he cries. It's stupid. It really is. Dan is right about every fucking aspect of this, and it's _Phil_ that's being difficult. He can't run away. He can't make this about him.

"Think about Maven, Phil," Dan whispers. "You can't abandon her, not knowing that she might never find anyone else to do this with."

Phil sniffles, trying to speak in between involuntary breaths. "Ugh. Dan, she's horrible. I can't spend the rest of my life with her."

"You're being daft on purpose, Phil."

Phil frowns. "That's rude."

"You are, though. You'll see her at big events and that's it. She'll be with her partner the rest of the time."

Phil whines deep in his throat, frustration almost boiling over.

"This is giving me anxiety."

Dan gives him a sad look, eyes mellow. "Let's sit down somewhere. And talk. You said we haven't talked, so let's do that," he says, smiling tentatively. Phil doesn't feel like smiling back, but he does anyway. And seeing the way Dan's own smile widens when he sees him, it doesn't feel as forced.

***

They're sat in the grass, under a weeping willow, shielded by the hanging branches. There's a sunspot next to Phil's right leg, right where some branches part, and he moves his leg until his skin is being warmed up through his trousers, fabric lit in an uneven stripe.

Dan is sitting next to him, but not really. He's got both his legs over Phil's left one, cuddled closely into his side. Dan leans his head on his shoulder, and they're both watching the tiny bird who's made its way in front of them, hopping around happily.

"So…" Dan starts.

"Yeah."

"I can answer your questions, if you have any," he says, snuggling even closer to Phil and running his nose back and forth on the side of his neck. "Or I can ask you things if you don't know what to say."

Phil laughs lightly and raises his hand to hold the back of Dan's head where it's resting on his shoulder, keeping him there and playing with the short hairs at his nape. "That just sounds like you're explaining how a conversation works to me, mate."

Dan huffs out a laugh against his neck. "I'm trying to ease you into it, don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Phil hums, contemplating the situation for a bit, and his heart already feels lighter with Dan halfway into his lap and rays of sun clinging to the corners of his vision.

"I'll never be uncomfortable with you next to me," he says, a soft confession that floats around and settles over them. "I told you, you keep me safe."

"Do I? I don't feel like I'm doing enough," Dan says. Phil laughs incredulously.

"You stood up for me with Maven when it could've very well gotten you killed. You don't have to worry about doing enough."

Phil can feel Dan smile against his skin. "I mean, like, with you. I don't feel like I've been honest with you."

Phil frowns. "What do you mean?"

Dan sighs and presses his forehead to Phil's shoulder. "You said this was supposed to be just me teaching you stuff, right?"

"Dan, I didn't-"

"No, you did. You did mean it. I know this is all very confusing, but it gets even more so when we're not being honest. Because if I was being honest, Phil, I would've told you from the start that this meant more to me than that." It gets quieter the longer he speaks, and Phil would struggle to hear him if the words weren't spoken directly into his skin. "I wanted you, but it was obvious you didn't know what you wanted, so I suppose I just… I let myself be that outlet for you, to discover what you want." Dan clears his throat and speaks just a bit louder. "So I guess the question is, did you find out? Do you know what you want, now?"

Phil isn't sure how to voice what he's feeling, so he kisses the top of Dan's head as he gathers his thoughts.

He sighs. "This is all very new for me, Dan," he says quietly. "And I need you to explain everything to me in detail, and talk me through everything, because I don't know what… uhm. What being intimate with another boy means. But I don't think I've once doubted my connection with you. I care for you very deeply, and I want you in my life," he says. Dan chuckles against his neck, hand coming to rest on his waist, fingers digging into his side in a way that can only be comforting coming from Dan.

It should probably be harder, to be open like this, but with Dan it's never been hard to be open. He guesses it's even easier now, that all cards are laid on the table, easier when he knows that this, this thing he has with Dan, he's in control of it. It's always been him that called the shots.

He just now realises how selfless Dan has been. It's not something he wants to skim past.

"How did you stand me all this time? I've been a real asshole."

Dan moves a bit. "No, you're not," he says, and he sounds almost insulted. "I don't kiss assholes. I don't give love bites to assholes." He kisses Phil's neck, just a small peck. "And if that is not enough evidence, consider the fact that I spent almost all my time since I've arrived here holed up in your rooms, sneaking past guards or coming up with stupid, feeble excuses to get to spend time with you." Then comes another small press of lips. "I wouldn't go to those lengths for someone unless I thought they were worth it."

Phil smiles. It's a lovely sentiment, but it doesn't quite cut it for him. "I haven't been paying proper attention to you. To your feelings. I feel like I hurt you without even realising and I haven't apologized for any of it."

"Look, Phil. I could have never expected you to know what you're doing. That's the whole thing about us. I know you don't know things, I was prepared for that when I made that first proposition."

Phil groans. "But I _feel_ bad, Dan. You're younger than me. You shouldn't have to take my shit just because I'm clueless and stupid. You deserve better than that."

Dan throws his hands around Phil's neck and comes impossibly closer, holding Phil that much tighter.

"Yeah, you're stupid. And clueless. But then again, you're also sweet and kind, and I knew Phil, it doesn't matter what you say, I knew what I was getting into. I knew that no matter if you wanted to be with me or not, you'd still be my friend. I knew you wouldn't judge me, wouldn't let what I said or did change things. We were always going to be okay."

"Maybe."

Dan lifts his head to fix him with a stare.

"Surely."

It's a curious and pretty thing, the way it works with them. Phil leans in and they kiss almost cautiously, letting the conversation and the newly talked about feelings settle over them as they press against each other, something completely new sparking to life inside Phil. He leans back to speak, but they still stay close to one another, lips brushing as he talks.

"It's like one of those stories," he says.

"What stories?"

"You know the ones. With the princess being saved by the knight in shining armour."

Dan lets out a giddy laugh. "And who saved who?"

"Oh, I don't know," Phil says sincerely. "Maybe we saved each other."

"So that would make us both knights, wouldn't it?"

Phil can't stop grinning. "I guess it would, yeah," he says, smile overtaking his face. "It works out perfectly in a way."

Dan laughs, then tries to pout. It's hard to pout in their position, though, and he ends up pushing his bottom lip into Phil's and whining delicately. "But you're my princess."

Phil has to stop himself from bursting into too-loud laughter at Dan's (almost) sincere indignation. "I can be both just for you."

Dan nuzzles their noses together and sighs contently. "Well then I guess we got it all sorted," he says, and they go back to kissing under the willow tree, sun shining as brightly as before, still in the same position as it was when they settled down on the grass. Or maybe a bit to the left, Phil thinks. Dan's lips are way more interesting than the sun and too distracting to pay attention to anything else, anyway.

***

When Phil meets Maven next, everything feels different. Now on their "official" second meeting, Phil waits in front of the castle for her, watching as her carriage pulls to a stop in front of him. She isn't alone this time, a woman her age walking by her side, wearing slightly less pompous clothing and holding a lace umbrella over both of their heads (although it's slightly tilted towards Maven).

Maven gives him a knowing look but otherwise ignores him (after he bows and kisses her hand and does everything he knows he's supposed to).

This meeting is more official and less official than the first one simultaneously. They have a buffet set up in the gardens, and although there isn't any serious conversation taking place, it still feels like a test.

There's no expectation of Phil and Maven to spend time together. In fact, Phil gathers that it would be frowned upon if they talked too much. The gardens are filled with close and distant relatives and there's a small quartet playing music in a corner, filling the air with happy notes, slightly choppy and frantic at times, and then back to something sweet and melodic.

The gardens are in full bloom, the warm May air and the warm May sun (and the chilly May breeze) all moulding into something… Good. It's good. It makes Phil slightly uneasy, because of what's to come, but it's not bad. Phil would even say he's enjoying himself, even though he'd like it more if Dan was there. It annoys him slightly that Maven gets to have her person by her side at all times, while _Phil's_ person is making muffin towers in the kitchens.

Not that he's not enjoying the muffin towers. He's been stuffing himself with sweets since he got here, but that's beside the point. He'd rather stuff his mouth full of Dan.

People come to talk to him, polite to a fault, and they ask questions Phil's answered a thousand times over, questions he's been taught to ask himself whenever the conversation grows stale. He keeps entertaining them, aunts and uncles and this prince and that. It never becomes something Phil wants to give his full attention to. It's just a background hum of conversation, something to keep him from swinging his head back and forth towards the side doors that lead into the kitchens. He thinks that if he looks hard enough, Dan might appear. Or might hear his thoughts or something.

"How are you, Philip?" comes a voice from his left. Apparently he hadn't managed to keep his eyes off those damn side doors. He puts on a smile before he even sees who's talking to him, and it falls right off when their eyes meet.

"Maven. Good, I'm good. Better than last time."

Maven lifts one eyebrow, and Phil thinks it's weird that he notices such things, but he does. Her eyebrows aren't as perfectly manicured as he's seen on other court ladies. They're wilder, but not in an unkempt way. It's definitely weird that he sees that. He carefully lowers his eyes a few millimetres back to hers.

"It's good to hear that. I hope it hasn't got anything to do with me? I'd hate to make your day better," and her mouth quirks up the tiniest bit at the end.

Phil's responding smile is more of a grimace. "Sure hasn't. It's just a good day today. Or it was worse then. Probably that."

"Aw, and here I thought I was the reason for your good mood. Maybe I still can be," she says, wiggling her eyebrows. Phil huffs a laugh before he can stop himself. Maven seems almost nice. Playful. Her arm is linked with the arm of the woman he saw earlier, long blonde hair curling at the ends. Phil looks between them a few times and then gives Maven a questioning look. They both look amused.

"This is Aminta. Minty, this is Philip."

Phil kisses her hand. "I go by Phil. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Phil," she says, speaking for the first time. Her voice is surprisingly raspy, the tiniest amount pitchy, yet soft. "I'll still prefer Aminta from you, wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression, correct?"

Phil nods and feels himself relaxing from the banter. "That's right. How was the journey here?"

Aminta and Maven share a second of eye contact, looking each other up and down in a quick glance, and Phil feels himself turn red. "Right," he says. "Good, I expect…"

"Indeed," Maven says. "It was good seeing you, Phil. We'll talk later, I expect."

"Yeah. Probably. Have fun!" he says. He directs all thoughts towards the cupcake rack.

***

Phil gasps on the upstroke, twisting his body into the white sheets. Dan is above him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, telling him how well he takes it, how beautiful he looks, how hard he makes him. Phil's breaths are all gasps.

"God, Phil, if you could see yourself…"

Phil pulls him down into a kiss, biting Dan's lip on a particularly tight movement of his hand.

It'd been impossible to resist. After all the guests had gone to their rooms and the garden was empty, all Phil could think about was _Dan, Dan, Dan_. So he went up to his room, fully intent on sleeping off all the yearning in his system, but Dan was already there, on him the second he closed the door. He'd kissed him fast and deep, tongues playing against each other in the almost-dark room, and Phil couldn't have stopped his cock from getting hard if he tried.

They'd quickly fallen on the bed together, legs carrying them mindlessly towards the middle of the room. They'd kissed, and kissed and kissed, Dan on top of him the way he is now, except that was a few minutes ago and now is now. It didn't take many minutes of backs arching into each other and quiet, pained whimpers from Phil for Dan to trail his hand lower, cupping his hip and asking for permission to touch.

Phil almost said no, out of habit more than anything. They'd gotten like this a few times before, but it almost felt like too much, too much, too quickly. Today was different. Maybe because he saw Maven and _Minty_ , and saw how content they were with each other, but maybe not. He didn't feel like he had anything to prove. Their closeness just triggered a sudden _want_ for Dan, something that didn't go away with just kissing like it did every other time.

So he'd said yes. He'd said yes, yes, _yes_ a thousand times over, and Dan didn't even pretend to object or ask Phil if he's sure. He'd just kissed him again, rolled his whole body onto his, and gripped his aching cock through his trousers, moving his hand up and down through the thin material, creating delicious friction for Phil to cant his hips up into. Phil could make out every single one of Dan's fingers with just the way his hand held him through his pants, could map out Dan's touch on him without as much as opening his eyes.

"Can I see you, Phil?" Dan had asked, voice so close, breath ghosting over his ear. Phil had nodded, and Dan had moved down his body, getting a hold of Phil's trousers and slipping his fingers beneath his underwear as well, pulling them both down his legs until they were resting mid-thigh. Phil didn't think he'd like it, didn't think he'd like being exposed for anyone to see. But this felt different from how he'd imagined it.

Dan wasn't anyone. He was an extension of Phil, he was someone he trusted more than he trusted himself. So having his cock out for him, however ridiculous it might sound, was almost emotional in its intensity.

Dan's eyes on him as the boy palmed him slowly, making a fist over the head of his cock for Phil to fuck into is not something he's likely not forget. He thinks, even as it's happening, that this is it. This is the moment he'll always associate with Dan, what he'll think of later on when he thinks of falling in love. He can almost see himself in ten years, twenty years, recalling this exact feeling, of eyes burning into his and pleasure coiling low in his belly.

So that's where they are now. That's how they ended up with Phil on his back and Dan above him, Dan's soft hand moving over Phil's cock, jerking him off in slow and tight motions, so slow, in fact, that the buildup to Phil's orgasm feels like an orgasm in itself. It doesn't feel like the last time, where his pleasure came out of nowhere and winded him in its intensity. This time it feels like it's coming from deep inside him, every movement of his hips into Dan's hand pushing the feeling closer and closer to the surface.

It helps to have Dan's weight on top of him, pinning him down. It helps to have Dan's breath on his mouth, his lips on his, it helps to see Dan with hazy eyes and ragged breaths puffed out on his cheek just from touching Phil. It helps to have Dan, to have his warm body pressed against his, to have him next to him while he feels all these new things, while he feels more pleasure and human connection than he's ever felt in his life.

It doesn't help that he's fully clothed, and Phil paws at the hem of his trousers in near desperation. Dan chuckles and shushes him, taking each of Phil's wrists in his hands, and it stops the motion on his dick so he whines and trashes against the bed. Dan chuckles harder and grips both of Phil's wrists in one hand, pinning them above his head and resuming jerking Phil off with his left hand. Phil is gone for the heavens the moment Dan's hand is back in the game, back arching off the bed and too-loud moans coming to an end as he spills everywhere, breath stuck in his throat while come spurts out the tip of his cock and oozes over the side, coating Dan's hand in the sticky, white fluid. The aftershock of it come in waves, pleasure pulsing through him with every breath. He's almost afraid to breathe for fear it will stop.

Phil opens his eyes to look at Dan, finding him looking back, thumb between his teeth and tongue lapping at it incessantly. He drops his head back for just a second and groans, lifting it back up immediately to look some more, staring at the motion of Dan's tongue as he sucks off everything Phil gave him.

"You can't be real," he breathes out. Dan grins and climbs back over him to kiss him, something tangy and salty mixing with the distinctive taste of _Dan_ on his tongue. "Can I do you?" he finds himself asking. Dan nods.

"Please," he says.

Phil tries to replicate what Dan did to him, rolling them so he's on top and tucking himself back in his pants when his soft cock slaps against his thigh. Dan stops him.

"No, don't. I wanna see you."

"But I'm not hard anymore."

Dan shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, I like it." A beat passes. "Please?"

Phil laughs, ducking his head in slight embarrassment. "So polite," he says, and Dan manages a breathy laugh as Phil takes himself out again, resting his trousers behind his balls. He feels incredibly exposed, more than he did earlier, but it gives him a thrill, a zing of something going up his spine.

"It's weird," Phil says, looking curiously at Dan, who's now staring intently at his cock. He can see how hard Dan is. Dan reaches out a hand to cup Phil, and it's almost too much, everything sensitive from having just come. Dan massages his balls in his hand, though, and it feels good. Phil moans in the back of his throat. "This is supposed to be about you," he says and Dan keeps stroking him, cupping and massaging gently.

"God, Phil. It's all about me right now, trust me."

And with that, Phil leans down to kiss him. He doesn't think touching Dan's lips with his will ever get old. Dan takes his hand away from where it was touching Phil and reaches between them to touch himself. He manages a few tugs before Phil notices the way his breathing's gone ragged against their kiss, and bats his hand away, replacing it with his. Dan's resulting moan makes even Phil's poor, spent cock twitch in the cool air of the room.

"Tame yourself, boy," he laughs, the _snick-snick-snick_ of his hand pumping Dan filling the room and his ears like a melody. "You don't want the whole castle to hear. There's a lot of guests here tonight."

"Shut up," is all Dan says before he fists his hands in Phil's shirt and tugs him down until his whole weight is on him, angle making it hard for Phil to keep up his motions. He tries his damn best, though, the kiss between them getting deeper and sloppier even as Phil's hand slows down.

"I wish I could taste you," is _not_ what Phil had intended to say, but it comes out anyway. Dan makes a beautiful, broken _a-ah_ noise when he hears him. It gets better from there. Dan turns his head to bite his earlobe and starts whispering filthy, filthy things, that Phil might have been scandalized about if his cock wasn't already back to half-hard.

"God, you'll taste me. One of these days you'll take me so deep you won't remember your own name. I'll make sure I fuck your mouth so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head and stay there," he says, and Phil sobs with how much he wants that in his cloud of arousal.

" _Yes_ ," he says, voice going pathetically high.

"You'll do that for me, princess?" Dan asks.

Phil's chants of _yes, yes, yes_ , get lost between their clashing mouths. Phil instinctually thrusts upwards, and the angle makes it so that he meets his own hand where it's moving against Dan. It's a stroke of genius when he opens his palm and takes them both in hand. The feeling of Dan's cock, burning against his and twitching madly in his grasp is something that he's sure no one has documented before, because no description he's ever read of _anything_ compares even slightly. He's fully hard now, and he takes a second to look between them.

He's mesmerized by the sight. He's never seen his cock fully hard, or anyone's cock, for that, but his hips stutter and a wave of _something_ travels through him. Seeing Dan's cock against his is just as good, if not better. Phil keeps thrusting, and Dan is clinging to him from all sides, fingers digging into his forearms and small moans breaking out of him.

Then, on one faithful thrust, their foreskins catch against each other, the pull so delicious that they both come on the spot. Phil is shaking as he keeps slowly moving his cock against Dan's, riding out another spike of pleasure, cock twitching uselessly as a few weak pearls of come roll between them. Dan, on the other hand, is frozen with his head tilted back and mouth wide open, the column of his throat long and pale and _taut_. His come splashes on his blouse, one stripe reaching his chin. Once Phil gets his shaking under control (because he doesn't think it'll ever really stop) he tilts his head and licks the white almost-liquid off Dan's face curiously. Dan groans. It tastes salty.

Phil's arms give out and he drops on top of Dan with his full weight. "I'm never moving again," he says.

Dan just breathes. "I'm not awake, try talking later."

Phil laughs against Dan's neck, lips brushing against sweat-salted skin. He dozes off for a few minutes before a knock on the door forces him to roll out of bed, not without a groan. He pulls Dan's pants up for a modicum of dignity and slips a warm wool jacket over himself, the shaking having turned into a bone-deep chill. He covers Dan's body with the blanket as well, opening the door a bit apprehensively.

Maven shoots into the room, pulling Minty along.

"Hellooo, everyone!" she says, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she sits on the end of the bed and drags Minty on her lap, seemingly not noticing Dan. "How is everyone doing? Or just lonely old Phil here?" She is suspiciously happy, he thinks. He doesn't indulge her. He whisper-shouts his next words.

"Little old Phil here-"

"Lonely," Minty corrects him.

"Shut up. Dan's asleep behind you, so will you keep your mouth shut?"

They both turn to look at Dan, who's rolled on his belly at some point.

"Just so everyone is aware, I'm awake," Dan says. "I'd rather not be, but that's neither here nor there."

Phil huffs.

"Well then," Maven says, clapping her hands. "Good news for everyone in this room."

"I'm listening," Dan mumbles, face mushed into the pillow.

"Right," Maven says, rolling her eyes. Phil narrows his. She goes on like nothing happened, smile wide on her face. "Your father proposed marriage and mine accepted!" she says. Well, almost shouts.

Phil is left open-mouthed. "Already? I barely admitted to him that I liked you."

It’s probably because Maven’s family is too filthy rich to turn away, and also too proud to keep coming if things don’t start moving along, but hey.

"Yes! It's official! Our lives are amazing and this plan worked perfectly," she says and _giggles_. Phil would rather believe someone possessed her than that she's actually happy, but then she hugs around Minty's middle and starts kissing her neck in shorts bursts, wildly and frantically and laughing against her skin, and Phil thinks _Yeah, that makes sense._

He looks over to Dan, who's now propped on one elbow and looking at him and he smiles. Yeah, maybe their lives are pretty good.

"We'll have children and we'll raise them together," Maven says, talking only to Minty and cupping her face in her hands.

Phil balks. " _We_ will raise them together. As in, all four of us."

Maven waves her hand around. "Yeah yeah, whatever. We'll have enough that we can share, I guess. We're not exempt from having an army of little demons running around," she says, but she's fond and gazing at Minty like she's her world. Minty looks back with the same quiet adoration in her eyes, and Phil wonders if he and Dan would be as obvious if they were to go out together in front of other people.

He can't stay away from his boy for too long, and he launches himself across the room and over Dan in mere seconds, laughing when Dan squeals and tries to push him off. They only end up tumbling around and jostling a disgruntled Maven with their movements, but Phil couldn't care less. He's got his love underneath him, his key to having him forever next to him, and a whole future ahead of him that screams in his face with how hopeful it is.

There's a lot of noise filling the room and both Maven and Minty scream at them to cut it out and then laugh amongst themselves, and it resembles something he'd like to keep. For all her faults, Maven is really starting to grow on Phil. He wrinkles his nose at the thought.

"Alright, get out now," he says, beginning to push them off the bed. "You've bothered us enough. Go do… Whatever it is you do and let us be."

Maven pokes out her tongue and Minty boos. "You're no fun," says the former.

"Out, out. Shoo. Other words that mean _leave_."

And they do leave, but only after Maven leans over to flick her finger into the side of Phil's head. She leaves just as she came, with Minty in tow, except this time Phil's exaggerated "Ow!" rings in the air and their laughter is even louder than earlier. Phil lets out an "oomph" and lets his head hit the pillow next to Dan, breathing heavily despite not having done anything physical.

He turns on his side and looks at Dan, feeling like he needs to put out the torches to see him just in _clair de lune_. He does just that, moonlight touching his skin in the dark, moon perfectly positioned outside his window. Dan watches him as he does it, eyes half-closed, but alert. He gets right back into bed, this time pulling the sheets over both of them and letting his hand fall to Dan's waist as they sit face to face.

"Do you want kids?" Phil asks. It's finally quiet in the room and he thinks he prefers it this way.

"Yeah," he answers, a small smile playing at his lips. "Do you?"

Phil snorts. "It's not like I have a choice."

Dan brushes a stray hair off Phil's face. "Then why do you think _I_ have a choice?"

That gives Phil pause.

"Because you do?" he says, and it comes out as a question.

Dan shakes his head. "Whatever's yours is mine. That means the kids, too."

Phil laughs incredulously. "That sounds like wedding vows."

Dan shrugs. "Do you want to exchange wedding vows? I wouldn't mind giving God an earful."

Phil giggles. It's a lot.

"Do you think God minds? You think he'll know when I exchange my vows with Maven?"

"Know what?"

Phil smiles. His thumb rubs back and forth on Dan's cheekbone. "Know that I'd rather have you in front of me?"

He thinks he sees something wet in Dan's eyes. There's something shining in the moonlight when he moves closer.

"I think God knows. He must know, when it's as powerful as it is."

 _It’s_ could refer to anything, really, but Phil has an inkling it doesn’t mean God.

"You're doing what I did and avoiding saying the thing." Phil laughs.

"What thing?" Dan asks, grin starting to form on his face.

"You know, _the thing._ The thing you really mean."

Dan kisses him. Phil thinks he definitely feels something wetter than saliva on his lips. Saltier, too.

"The thing I mean with what?"

"What's powerful, Dan?" Phil asks, in lieu of a response.

Dan kisses him again. It's just a whisper.

"Our love," he says, quiet in the night, unheard by anyone in the castle, silent for everyone else in the world. Two words muttered into a daze of orgasms, sleepiness and happiness. And yet, they still sound so _loud_ for Phil, like an entire church chorus has started singing.

"Our love," he repeats, starting to laugh, giddy and honest and silent and loud all the same. "Are we in love, Dan?"

Dan grins. "You tell me. I've been in love since the day you lied to me about the lemon cakes."

Phil gasps. He whisper-shouts. "You knew about the lemon cakes!?"

Dan laughs a belly laugh, biting on his fist to keep it quiet. "Of course I knew about the damn lemon cakes, Lester."

Phil can't name what he's feeling when he kisses Dan, tongue slipping out just-so, but keeping it gentle. Well, actually…

Phil kisses Dan again. He rests their foreheads together, massaging his fingers through his hair, rubbing his thumb into the skin of his shoulder. He bites his lip. "I love you."

It's so good to say it out loud and see the shock on Dan's face.

"I've loved you since that first night, and I think I knew it too. The thought of you was the only thing that could put me to sleep, still is, in fact."

"Phil…"

"I can't really put into words what you mean to me. But I think _I love you_ is fitting. It's the highest thing I can think of, and you're the best person in the world, so I think I can give it to you. I can say I love you, because I'm positive it's true."

His face is inundated with kisses, on his nose, on his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, his mouth. The lingering ones are on his mouth.

"God, Phil. I'm… I love you too. I fucking adore you. You don't know," his voice breaks, "You don't know. You'll never know what it's like, loving you. You're so… delicate," he says, cupping Phil's face. Phil thinks he's crying too. "You're delicate and that doesn't mean weak, not at all. You're just _kind_. You're so kind and lovely. I've never met anyone like you."

Phil wraps himself around Dan, tangling their feet together and entwining them until they feel like one singular being.

"I'm not as kind as you see me."

"And I'm not the best person in the world."

"Untrue."

"Fact."

They laugh.

"Hey, Dan?"

"Hmm?" he hums, probably already half-asleep.

"I love you."

Dan smiles. Phil doesn't see it, but he hears it in his voice.

"I love you too."

***

It's the day. The day.

The servants, the royals, even the one mouse Phil is sure he saw once; they're all swimming in something akin to thick goo, nerves and stress almost materializing into something physical, filling their noses and mouths and throats with something that feels liquid, sloshing around and making breathing nearly fucking impossible.

The castle is decked out for festivity, the most important feature Phil can pinpoint being the downright ridiculous amount of flowers that cover every surface, all blue and white and emerald green, a mix of colours representing the union of two kingdoms, as well as two people (supposedly). Phil does a double-take when he sees the green roses, but he's whisked away before he can look at them properly.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he almost feels insane. He's never had such intense eye contact with himself before, but his wedding day might as well come with exciting new firsts.

Yes, Phil, it's normal to talk to yourself as long as you do it inside your head.

But actually, Phil, maybe it's not and we finally lost our mind.

Perhaps, perhaps. Maybe stop using the collective "we" for a start?

People are tinkering with his hair and clothes, as usual, but the energy is different. It's almost frantic, like they're rushing to get him through the door faster, lest the wedding start without him.

But they can't start the wedding without him.

…

Can they start the wedding without him?

No need to panic. He's made all the choices already. All he needs to do is let himself be led wherever he needs to be, say yes when he's prompted and…

Well. Hopefully the bedding ceremony won't pose any problems.

That particular bit of news almost gave him permanent brain damage. Hearing that he's going to be led to his new chambers by family, friends and strangers and instructed on how to properly consummate his marriage wasn't easy to digest, especially in his situation. It helped that they would only maybe stay to watch them. What that 'maybe' depended on was probably up only to God himself, and Phil wasn't sure he was in His good graces.

And he hasn't even seen Dan today.

***

Rows upon rows of pews are filled with people, royals from all over the continent there to witness the sacred bond between a man and his wife. It would probably be unwise to tell them about the husband carrying in trays of sweets through the back door.

Phil thinks something weird happened between Dan being taken in as an apprentice and this day, because he doesn't remember ever having gone to a wedding where the walls of the church were lined with cake and sugar drops. But then again, at that moment, they're also lined with people eating them (and some five-times-removed cousins stuffing their pockets full).

It makes him smile. And then he looks over to where Dan is and smiles wider. He's leaning on the wall near the sweets, hair falling into his eyes and puffing out tired breaths. His clothes hang a bit around his frame. When he sees Phil, a weak smile graces his face, and he winks, before turning around and going to fetch more of whatever has already been eaten.

When everyone is settled, the ceremony begins.

The organ starts playing, the bride makes her way over, the veil is lifted and everyone gasps and cheers theatrically. Phil almost snorts when he sees Maven's face. It takes all his willpower not to let the corners of his mouth lift, because truth be told, she looks ridiculous. And not ridiculous in the bad, mortifying way, but more in the absurd, this-situation-doesn't-fit-you-at-all-like-wow way.

Dan is right behind her and Phil holds his gaze throughout the whole ordeal of exchanging his vows. He doesn't look away when he slips the ring on Maven's finger and he doesn't look away when he says yes. He has a suspicion it's the only way saying yes was even possible. When he kisses Maven, he twirls her around so that he can side-eye Dan, and almost misses her mouth from how intensely he is looking at the boy. Dan doesn't laugh, but he does smile, and when the priest pronounces them man and wife, he crosses himself.

***

The feast is an insane affair. In the gardens, manned by dozens of guards, stand five long tables, fifty or sixty feet long each, with food piled sky-high. Those are for the commoners. Inside the castle are just two tables of the same magnitude, stretching the great hall side by side. There's music and food and dancers, and Phil has to admit. He's having fun.

Nicky is there as well, one of the dancers sitting in his lap and laughing while he feeds her strawberries. He ushers her away when he sees Phil skipping in his direction. They embrace and get talking, joking about Nicky's status as a bachelor and Phil's newly acquired lack of it.

It's mere seconds after Phil throws his head back at one of Nicky's jokes that Dan appears by his side, long fingers curling around his shoulder to get his attention. Phil turns his head to look up at him from where he's sitting and immediately starts grinning. He reigns it in when he sees the look Nicky is throwing his way, but otherwise he stays relaxed, eyeing Dan questioningly.

"Who's your friend here, Philly?" Dan's fingers tighten on his shoulder at the line of questioning. "Anyone I should know about?"

Phil grins again. It may be the cheerful atmosphere of the party, the music or the fact that no one is paying attention to them right then, but he doesn't feel self-conscious. Or scared, for that matter. He's got it all tied up neatly from where he's seeing it, the perfect net to cushion him if he falls, and, truth be told, a very new feeling of recklessness that can only stem from being pushed around your whole life and finally feeling in control.

It might just be the chocolate, though.

It's probably the chocolate.

"This is Dan. Dan say hi."

Dan sputters for a few seconds, the most offended Phil has ever seen him. He can't stop himself from letting out a loud guffaw.

"I'm not a dog, Phil! Or a child, for that matter." He then proceeds to give Nicky a look that says this guy. Phil is endlessly fond.

"Okay, okay. Nicky, this is Dan. Dan, this is Nicky. Shake hands and be friends!" Phil says, giggling like mad. Dan and Nicky share a look over his head but comply.

"So, Dan, how come you're friends with Phil? You seem like a well-adjusted human being, after all."

Phil glares while Dan snorts and keeps the conversation going, sitting down between them and leaning into Phil's space while he and Nicky get to know each other.

He doesn't mind not being an active member of the conversation. Just listening to the two favourite people in his life is enough to make him feel content. Nicky shoots him glances every time he learns something new about Dan, and if Dan notices, he doesn’t say anything.

When Dan first sits down and becomes eye-to-eye with Nicky, Phil receives the first glance.

When Nicky learns Dan is the apprentice patissier, he gets another one.

When Dan starts complaining about Phil's habit of leaving his clothes strewn around the room, Nicky isn't even looking at Dan anymore. Phil's lips twitch uncontrollably, both wondering what the hell Dan is doing and enjoying the slow comprehension dawning on his life-long best friend's face.

It's reckless.

It's surprisingly fun.

Soon enough Phil is pulled away from them and pushed towards his bed-chamber, Maven stumbling next to him, also pushed forward by a swarm of screaming and singing people. Nicky somehow makes his way to the front, and Phil hears yelling over his head, someone being told to "watch it", then he's got his friend's thin voice whispering in his ear.

"Glad I got to meet Dan today," he says. Phil sees Maven being swept into someone's arms and carried ahead. He frowns. He can't really answer, Nicky's discorporated voice coming from behind him making it hard to turn around and speak low enough that he's not heard by anyone else. "Really glad to know you figured yourself out, Philly. The news of the wedding was concerning, to say the least," he says, chuckling in Phil's ear.

At that, Phil does turn around just to shoot him a confused look.

"I'll make sure to sneak in your person tonight, after everyone else clears out," comes another sentence from behind him, and Phil can hear the smirk in his voice.

Phil smirks himself. Before he's pushed inside the room and the doors locked behind him, he stops and turns around, bringing Nicky's ear closer so he can answer in a matched whisper.

"No need to bother, he's already there," he says, winking and leaving a perplexed Nicky behind.

As he gets into bed with Maven, both still fully clothed, waiting for the priest to give them his final blessing, Phil thanks God for locks on doors and conveniently placed secret passages.

***

They have kids. It’s their duty, sure, but for some ungodly reason, they’re all excited for it. And Dan's more gentle with Maven than he is with anyone else. He helps her when Minty's not around, helps her when Phil hasn't got the patience. He even helps in the process of getting her pregnant, him and Minty present in the room where it happens. They’re both there for comfort, but in Phil’s case, Dan helps with the other… _mechanics_ of it as well.

Phil keeps loving him. It soars higher every day.

He only shouts it once, though, the first time he enters him. It keeps soaring higher.

Phil as king is a sight to see. It comes a few months after the wedding, after his father passes away and Maven becomes pregnant for the first time. His father’s passing isn’t exactly a surprise, either. Phil had suspected some kind of illness for years now. It just so happens that his passing came at a very politically charged moment, and with all the other things in his life, Phil wasn’t entirely prepared for it. Dan makes it better, though. And even Maven and Minty help.

He's always got Maven and Minty by his side, and Dan is always just around the corner, leaning on the wall in the throne room by the ever-present snack table, eyeing him up, or lately plain walking by his side.

People _must_ know something by now, he gathers. And it’s not just the ever present shape of Dan next to him that could clue them in. Passing laws that decriminalize men loving men and women loving women is naturally going to be the talk of town. Phil has to go through some serious hoops to not get England excommunicated from the catholic church, claiming all manner of things to get the pope off his back. It’s a good thing his kids look a lot like him, that’s for sure.

And war… It never actually comes. Phil manages to negotiate a truce with France after he marries Maven, her army and his combining into something a bit too intimidating for anyone to challenge, at least not then.

It's peace. And it's love. It's love most of all. He even visits Dan's house in the village once, meets his parents and introduces himself as Dan's friend. He thinks Dan's parents know, but they don't say anything. He spends the day frolicking with Dan in the sun, kissing him in dried up fields, lying in the grass and parroting back songs that Dan tries to make up.

He kisses Dan on the mouth, marvelling at the taste of strawberries new on his lips, and thinks, _I wouldn't mind growing old like this._

The thought leaves his head as Dan kisses down his neck, but the feeling stays.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it to the end, those kudos are for you too, because it's no small feat. Thank you for reading. You can find me @corvinephan on tumblr if you want to send me a message. Please leave a comment, it means a lot.


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